Sorrow Is Better Than Insomnia.

Neither a sister, nor a daughter, Nor any one by blood you are. Yet my sorrow never sleeps. Never a tryst, nor a rendezvous, Nor an innuendo, you granted. Yet my sorrow never sleeps. Glamour, splendor, or pretext, You never played to gravitate. Yet my sorrow never sleeps. Formidable and forbidden you were. Sojourn was so short. Parting was abrupt and aborting. Yet my sorrow never sleeps. Every beginning has an end. An episode should, however, end. But abortion and usurpation? May be, by a boon I’ll see you soon. That can retrieve our past monsoon. But the crop is already gone. So my sorrow never sleeps. Time was over before I could score. No more game is set up in the court. That is why my sorrow never sleeps. With your parting, came to an end All my springs and monsoons. Let my sorrow never sleep. It is better than insomnia. 08.05.2001, Pmdi