Poetry

Too often in my dreams you have dwelled,
but tonight, in the bright silver moonlight
from me I want you to be expelled,
although I do miss you, I pray tonight

while the red sun is dying in the west
that peace and tranquillity will be yours,
in all love I am asking that you rest
in this world, in all of the darkest hours

and when our God a His time comes again
that He will raise you in righteousness,
the clouds are milling and I can smell rain
but there is just silence and darkness

while the hours pass and tiredness finds me,
in sleep there is some kind of sanctuary.