Alas, My Love, how Empty is
This bed without you.
How I strain to hear the
Soft and subtle rhythm of
Your Sweetest breath.
How I long to Feel the
Gentle Warmth of Your arms
Embracing me.
How I yearn to lean close,
A soft and tender Kiss to bestow.
Alas, My Love, this bed lies empty,
You are not here, not yet,
And in reverence of its Lonely state
I do shun its comfort
To lie in distracted vigilance
Upon the floor
Alone.
~Morgan~
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Beautiful Original Artwork by:ย Moonchild-Ljilja
Reblogged this on John Cowgill's Literature Site.
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