The Ballad of Pine - II

Oh! On chilly nights I long,

For the selfless sun's warmth,

Then pine for dark clouds that soothe,

To shade me from the singeing burn,

During showers I yearn for the autumn breeze,

That sways the lowly acacia branches,

And then I clothe my unsatisfied self,

With the tiniest, smoothest cashmere,

And nurse so fondly a nervous itch,

To leave me partial once again,

Partial to the satisfied being,

That seldom transcends to binocular vision,

And yet in earnest, I do hope,

I'll see the dawn, that fated day,

I cradle so fondly between my eyes,

Like the apple of my eye,

Love! The day I would run freer than wind,

The day I yearn for you no more!