Lone

The day goes out of whack when she is gone.
Sure, the indulgence of it, for a while
Seems to make up for it, but that's a con.
There's nothing that can replicate her smile,
Or compensate for having her around.
Having the apartment to myself
Is worse than halving it with her, I've found.
I am not solitary, like an elf,
But live in company, like dwarves or men;
I will not joy in being left alone or wild.
Instead I'd rather be with her again,
For all my happiness with her is filed,
And every day I see her I am glad:
There is no better lover to be had.