Incredibly, it's been a year

without her magic face.

No joyous laughter in my ear -

no voltage charged embrace.

Her charming personality

I left with much regret -

the tender way she gazed at me

my hindsight views it yet.

I rushed to answer Cupid's plea

and thought she'd heard it too.

But does this woman still love me?

I just don't have a clue.

It doesn't seem twelve months could flee

since she appeared subdued,

yet she chased me aggressively

as pregnance craving food.

Could that much time pass since the fun

of cradling her hand -

chemically bonding with this one

who made me feel a man?

I breathed her fragrance drunkenly -

kisses were heady wine.

But does this woman still love me?

Your guess is good as mine.

A year away might change one's will -

"is" may become "no more".

If I scorched roads to Beulaville

and pounded on her door,

this coy one would grin teasingly.

Undoubtedly she'd say,

"For one professing love for me

how easily you sway."

So does this woman still love me?

One thing great men allow-

the blindest are those who won't see-

my eyes were closed till now.

Daniel Grey Taylor