The Spring of Discontent

A man died in my dreams last night

He perished thinking

The woman he loved dearly

Cared little for he in return

A heart attack, his end last night

Or the doctors in my head said

His heart did stop

But not for any medical reason

This man told himself late last night

That to go on

Would be true folly

Chasing the ghost of a soul still alive

He thought only of her, last night

And how she'd be disappointed

For stopping his heart this way

But he knew he'd done what he wanted to do

He wrote one letter last night

And told her what

He'd left behind

A life for her

What he would have given her anyway

His completeness

A part of her happiness

Were he there to see it

There to share it

It would have taken longer

Been sweeter

The hand-built cabin

Lost in the woods

He gave her the key

With a yellowed map

Not yellowed with age

But she'd like the effect

A place for joined solitude

For her to share

An improbable set of

Mischevious Swiss numbers

A whole different nest

With a variant on egg

And wrapped up in a corpse of a book

His book

The story of his life

As he wanted her to see it

What he prayed she had been there for

So she would know

So he'd somehow share

His life with her

Just how he always wanted.

And so

Though he died alone

There were no


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