We're enemies now,
That's the feeling;
Punches thrown
Each of us reeling.

War of the sexes;
That;s our contest
As from fate
We strive to wrest
Some meager solace
A morsel of love,
And a compelling reason to drop our fighting gloves.

Yours was the prayer
I heard so clear,
Something to awaken me
As I drew near.

You reprove my anger,
But I will tell you this:
It was my passion
That gave me to know your deepest wish.

I will soon be leaving,
My Argo put to sea
For my crew and I need cleaner air to breath.

But I will remember
When I awaken from a deep sleep.
And find your tears running down my cheek.

© Howard Alan Lantzer