Why there’s no room to dream on

And no time for wishful thinking

Why there’s not a chance for life ever after

And no glimpse into the future

Rare will be a breath of cold wind

There will never be another peek at a happy face

Why?

Not even a taste of the afternoon drizzle

Not even a touch of the glorious sun rays

Why?

Taboo at gazing into each other’s eyes

Intense craving, but no more intimate touches, body contacts

No more trysts in the morn, noon or night

No more, nada, zilch

Still at it? Keep asking Why?