Its the close of the day.
The wind parades the land.
Seated in full calm ness.
Sapping from nature's goodness.
A longing call he yearns for;
Waiting to be yoked with another.
Still, no one beckons.
Though, before and after him they pass by.
Taken in to be merged.
To be stuck in the same path with one special.
A call to lift this weary heart.
To wash this dirty lonesomeness away.
The dusty air is enraged by this feeling.
Heavy thought weighs on this being;
For this being is joined to another.
Though, space and time beset them.
Pledges of loyalty they've made each other.
A crazy thirst not to be quenched soon.
Not to stray; the very constant fight by day.
Daily, longing to keep the pace;
A vow to remain chaste.
Poem by John Kelvin
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