She wed me on an autumn day, a week before the towers fell.
I don’t think she knew that I’d been on the brink of hell.
I left her on a spring day; some eleven years apart.
She came to me in spring bearing forgiveness and a heart.
We wed, and it was magic, a romantic tour-de-force,
The fire, as all fires do, ember dim became, (of course).
And now she says she’s leaving; she’s had enough, she’s through.
I’m just a man who loves her, heart and mind and body true.
“I don’t really want to lose you; I’m not looking for divorce”
Then why will she not work with me to stay this evil course?
“I need some time to find myself, my minds a raging whirl!”
So put me on a shelf? And when you want me I’ll unfurl?
The sad thing is I’m willing, to play the waiting game.
For what she promised in the fall, when she assumed my name,
Was life and love and friendship, everlasting summertime.
But now my soul is frozen, crusted o’er with hoary rime.
I’ll wait for her forever for I have none of myself,
Though I may die in bitterness, alone on empty shelf.

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