Old books have piled beside me
from endless nights no epic tale can kill
Her face fills each story

I toss, I turn, I lament
I lay awake without her scent until
all my candles are spent

Time’s distance, pulling away
beautiful memories, I’m left astray
‘til my nights fade to gray

I’ve tried to sleep under stars
but morose company of retrospect
engrosses me in scars

I have lived a thousand deaths
my breath draws deep to let wail my epos
yet exhales wordless breaths

Old books stack beside my bed
legends I’ve read, her vision fills my head
all my candles have bled.

I’ve written this poem in the form of a Welsh englyn byr cwca.