A man lies in bed,

Thinking of life,

And the name of that idea

Was the one of his wife.

 

He smiled as he picked up his pen,

Writing in his book,

And the way he stroked his pen

Was of his life that she had took.

 

"In my heart I grow fond,"

He calmly wrote,

"Of the voices and the laugh

Of the thief she had tote."

 

"Blessed be onto me,

This dry and withered man,

For Fate had brought onto me

The hatred I had all but ban."

 

"I sing to her as lie,

Our bodies tied up,

And with each passing day

We drink from the same cup."

 

"We come to blows,

Every now and then,

But with our voices together

We flock back to Love's hen."

 

"We desire the comfort of others,

But not the wicked way,

For family is the comfort we need

Until the nights together we lay."

 

"We find peace with those close to us,

Lust not in our hearts,

For goodness is what brings us

To say our lasting parts."

 

"We share everything together,

Yet we still discover anew,

The thoughts our own

But jealousy we slew."

 

"We know each's secrets,

Even the ones of gloom,

For we always find

A way to avoid our doom."

 

"I love her,

As we return to each other,

Our paths parting at times

But always converge together."

 

"We each have a life,

One seperate in the parts,

Yet we join together in the end

To savor each day's arts."

 

"We desire each other,

Yet we let it not consume,

For Love is not a toy

We fool with in our room."

 

"With that I shall go my way,

As I must return to my life,

But I shall always know

That I never looked at her in strife."