The Lover Mourns For the Loss of Love
William Butler Yeats
Pale brows, still hands and dim hair,
I had a beautiful friend
And dreamed that the old despair
Would end in love in the end:
She looked in my heart one day
And saw your image was there;
She has gone weeping away.
Josh smiled briefly at his assistant as he walked back into the bullpen, his suit rumpled and his tie half-undone. He felt weary, but the lateness of the hour had not kept him from returning to the office before heading home for a few hours of sleep.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she smiled, looking up from the stack of papers on her desk. "You want your messages?"
He shook his head and half sat on a desk near hers. "I'll get them later."
"Okay." She turned back to the papers.
"Amy and I broke up tonight."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Josh." She set down her pen and brought her full attention to her boss. "What was wrong?"
She wasn't you, he thought. "I don't know."
"She wasn't very nice." Donna wasn't very good at placating her boss; he was usually the one annoyingly full of energy and good cheer. She thought briefly about bringing him coffee, but intuitively decided it would do more harm than good.
"I know."
She felt bad, being unable to do anything for him. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Tell me you love me. "Not really. You understand, I'm sure. The lover mourns for the loss of love."
"Yeah." Something disturbed her about the statement. It was an unusually romantic sentiment for Josh, and didn't sound like something he'd normally say. She jotted it down on a piece of paper to look up later. The name Yeats floated up in her brain from some half-forgotten lit class in high school. She contented herself with a mental promise to look it up later, and turned back to the mountain of paper work she was filling out.
"Listen, I'll be in my office if there's anything you want to talk to me about."
"Sure. I'll come in later with your messages."
"Okay." Josh went into his office, hoping she would understand his message soon.