Where is my Antonia?
The one whose eyes own me?
I haven't seen her for days
And yet I see her wherever I go.
Where is my Antonia?
I wish to God, with every breath,
Perchance that I could know.
Where is that lovely angel
Who, which is the least of her
Talents, can astonish me with a word?
Why is her lack of presence as
Great a mystery as her existence?
Every waking moment that I must
Endure without her is like a torpor
Upon my mind and soul.
Where is my Antonia?
Where did she go?
A voice so soft and skin
To match; Eyes so deep as
To be fathomless; mysterious
And open, full of answers and
Closed off: this is she, the object
Of my affections.
She dances and swirls with
The eddies of life while I
Stand still. My being motionless
Makes me an easy target, but Cupid
Still hunts her down, seemingly in vain.
Where is my Antonia?
Why am I in pain?
She is my sun and
Ever-constant moon,
Guiding light to my
Overshadowed eyes.
Without her by my
Side, my life is shrouded
And overcast with
Dark skies.
Where is my Antonia?
The light in my life? | 
