After midnight, a tear dribbles down my jaw,

My heart is torn; the darkness is rushing in,

I have been waiting forlorn for the sun at my door,

To see Idyllia glaze when I gaze at my opened door.

But the night is still dreary

As I miss her charm

And I’m still weary

Like a workaholic farmer.

 

Reminescing of when it was still daylight,

More tears drooling from their seat tattoo my cheek;

No! We had never thought even of twilight,

And through each day, cloud-like glided with no foresight.

Like a barren prairie

I optimistically hope;

The dark is scary,

But my consolation is a dumb praying Pope.

 

The wall clock sings three and I acquaint despair,

For I realise the truth is yelling out.

I dry my tears, she won’t come, the truth stabs my Coeur.

But my wish for light is forever, past when I lose my hair.

Hope she’ll come back even as I occupy my hearse.

Farewell fair fairy,

My silken girl of Utopia,

My nights will always be dreary,

And great will my fear be,

But I shall be fine, Idyllia.

 

(c) Nyonglema