The writings of sunny Caane - I miss her
I miss her – her whom I have been blessed with for a few years. Now, she is gone, taken away by the stronger wind of another. She yielded to his fragrance. But my fragrance made her cover her nose and run away. It stank, so much so, that any whiff of my smell made her sick. Thus, as all good men do, I stay away respecting her illness of me, and cried alone, deep into the midnight hours when the stars are weeping. Till this day I weep, and live in regret, that she slipped through my hands.