I found an oil lamp not long ago, yet long ago:
In the dark, its sole light shone.

What happened now, it dimmed in heap;
Did I not oil it, or might it broke;
How did it break, why do I not know?

When I found the lamp, I shortly found another:
Though I lost it, the light somehow remained.
I do not have it, nor can I oil it;
I can see its light, giving cold shivers:
The one was warm, but why did it dim;
This one's cold, for it got distant.

In all this darkness, I held that hand;
Or who knows a gladius, which always remained?
It was her, holding my hand;
Never letting go, even if I want!

***

I wasn't sure whether to post it or not but as I am uploading most of my poems, why not this as well?

P.S I wrote it more than a year ago.