Bears have the right idea.

They hibernate all winter long.

This bear would sleep throughout the long dark winter of my soul

Until the warming sunshine of your smile

Rose above the boring skyline of my days.

For Oh! The days grow longer since you left;

The nights stretch far beyond the limits of my human patience.

I mark the days with felt-pen on my white board,

Crossing them off, one by one, until they are all gone.

But that takes me only until ten oíclock.

So with a clean slate I write them up again.

Tomorrow at this time Iíll play the hand of God

And make the world spin faster for an hour.

It makes no change.

I draw the curtains on my view

And sulk because you are not here.