Mary Jane's Lament

I sat up one night
awaiting her arrival;
alas - she came not.

I am not bitter
for having this spirit raised
in hope of delight;

Only tenderness,
all-encompassing, can save
a frayed soul tonight.


Mary Jane is gone
never to solicit me
again here on Earth.

The Mind cannot know
how e’er a lass could decieve
and strike a bad blow.

Poetry will die
like a flower in the moon
like tears from an eye.