Every wretched day moving by
Served to never let him forget,
As the passage from dawn to dusk
Acted out his tragic tale:
The sun-rise, full of promise
Breaking the silence, giving hope,
Just the same as she had done.
Now the morn turning to noon,
The sun like her love intensifying
Burning him, and his, mercilessly.
Then the daylight slowly fading
Until, while yet still present,
For all practicality no more.
And as dark as it was before,
Like it was after she was gone;
But worse off he was for it
Because as he shivers through the night
The memories of daylight, like her perfume
Haunt his melanomic, sun-burnt soul.