The Shadow Waits

What shade is a bitter heart?
A man in sour mood, broken over
Healed how? Water poured on ancient wound?
Alas, mine is the sort of solid pain
A man doomed, nay consumed
Vainly with her quiet stubborn prose
Alas when and why did I come to love
This witty, shy and stubborn woman so?
The shade of my heart is her emery hair
The wound healed by her cinnemon stare
And so I am here for her, the shadow
Waiting the return of his lady

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