Time slips by with no malice; it only must.
And yet here I sit wishing for better days.
And without love she stares on with no disgust.
I lay her and think of our love last May.
Why ask do I wish for such small things.
You ask a riddle of the ages.
I have searched the world for rings and wings.
And not even Mages,
could bring my happiness from the grave.