As I sit at my console, so cold & very alone,

I cry to, as they say, relieve the pressure that weighs heavy on my brow.

It’s nine of the hour & I refuse to condone

The umpteen promises you broke for me for four days & I again cry now.

Every time I stop & sit I can hear you voice

& I wish more than anything you would have come for a while to be with me.

It seems to me, & I am right, you’ve made the choice,

You would jump the silvered moon to hear her once, but take no step to see me.

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