Sometimes, up in my loft, I lie
And watch the clouds go sailing by.
Then thoughts take wing and start to wander
And on the painful past I ponder.
Then thoughts give way to sleep and dreams,
But I’m woke up by silver streams
Of light, through garret window flowing,
From melancholic moon now glowing.
For when I’d lay like dead man dreaming;
The sun had set and now was streaming
In lunar beams of borrowed light
From lesser light that rules the night.
And I felt cold and lost and lonely
Until I heard my one and only!
Call out to me, with voice so sweet;
Then I was up and on my feet
And all my dark, demonic dreaming,
My sad, insane and senseless scheming;
She kissed away and caused to cease,
My dearest darling dove of peace.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 19th, 2019 03:04
- Comment from author about the poem: for Lorraine, my dearest darling dove of peace
- Category: Love
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments1
Good Erie for wonderful lady.
thank you
Opps Erie should have been write, sorry Kevin.
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