The gray of the morning
Creeps in the room like fear.
It is growing lighter,
But I sit crouched and shivering.
I dare not look at the bed,
Lest I laugh -
Or curse God.
How does it happen?
Yesterday my wife,
And now - a strange thing -
Anything - nothing.
A body without breath,
Arms without warmth,
Lips without kisses.
'Eve' was her name,
And the strangest part is
That I want to call - 'Eve,
Come and look at this thing
That lies on your bed
And looks so like you.'
