My Annabel


Photo by Karl Callwood on Unsplash

Oh, Annabel, my own Annabel Lee, gone and now
what do I do?

When the cloud blows cold and
the kingdom is fairy and
I love with a love that is more than love but
the sepulchre is shut

When my soul can never dissever and
the moon’s beams bring dreams and
the stars rise like her brown eyes
over her tomb by the sounding sea

I don’t know what to do
so on the night-tide I lay down on my side
and weep
of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride

Who was — but wasn’t — and never will be



Desher Hyland

She is my whole world. I write for Marina.