Spring secluded -- a poem

Life's not much fun in a single bed
I awake at night and all is still but the breeze
No elbows jostle, no hands turn me when I snore
No arms embrace me from behind on a cool spring morn

I miss your smile at sunrise, defined by the lines of time
Soft lines
Warm lines
Lines of love

Today I missed the touch of your hand
A violinist serenaded with sweeping bow
He played the sweet sounds of Greensleeves,
touching a buried chord of childhood memory

Alone, I rubbed a damp eye,
quickly, slipped on glasses
watched,
and watched others stare back.

What is life without someone to share it?
It passes fast, too fast to be marked alone
What is experience without companionship,
without love?

Opportunity, it is said, sometimes brings separation
May I never again seek it willingly
You see, life's not much fun in a single bed
Oh, but could I share yours tomorrow