Midnight came too early
Dawn passed without sleep
And dreams did not come
Until birds ceased to sing
And I sit here feeling battered
As if night holds a grudge because
I was recapitulating my day instead
Of listening to her lamentation
Give me a hand or a cup of tea
To warm my touch and soothe my senses
Or give me longer days and nights
So I can two mistresses serve
25 March 2008
1 comment:
lovely, Son.
I really like this portrait. multi-dimensional.
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