II-XIII In a Basement With Bertha Mason

Countless times, oh, countless days,

here I stand, in sorrow's haze.

How many times has this pain led me here,

to pen my thoughts, so raw and clear?

Nearly all my works, both old and new,

are salted with tears for love of you.

You remain the love of my life,

the one I cherish, in joy and strife.

And though my heart will never cease to love you so,

without release, I fear the day might come to pass,

when love’s flame fades, alas, alas.

To me, it feels a lack of care,

though we live apart, we share

a distance deep within our minds.

I feel a fool for being kind,

but when you’re near, my heart finds peace,

and life with you feels sweet release.

But what curse is this that makes me care?

In a world of sorrow, where

some live in bliss, while others cry,

injustice reigns, and truth’s a lie.

How foolish am I to crave romance,

when my life’s full of privilege and chance.

Thank you, God, for all I own,

may I grow wise, and do not cast a stone.

Grateful for the blessings sent,

I will not hope for a love that’s meant.