Home, it was you and I made alive.
We coated it wholly of enlivening hues,
why now, gloom-spectrum looms?
My heart, and the oak pendulum clock,
in duet of a mournful resonance,
reverberates in our hollow home.
The distant willow, quondam full of life,
now without our words combine, deserted
as if a lost beauty dreary, foraging for love.
Chain smoking, tobacco was bitter foul.
Is without flavour of witch's elixer,
alleviate, waft my sorrow aloft in vapour.
Nystagmus vision, a bliss when you reside,
home dances along with your balletic movements.
Cursed, as my sight wanders off, in the barren house.
House, is without us.
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