Come, lay by me and find my hands In the dark between the warm bedding- The window is dark, the shades dimly aglow The sun is at ascent (or it might be setting) .
This time when I leave there will be bells tolling, The reaper will walk with sad weeping women in dark shades This instance my death will be one too many times
I feel the cold on this summer's day as only i can; for the chill is in my bones and as the drafty air whispers through my room while the colors bursting through my window
Without you, the mundane morning clattering of the maid’s cutlery, Is naught but senseless noise; with you, it is music- Without you, the biting summer sun in all its glory is barely more
Fear is not what I am afraid of. True, it is a frightful thing to fear; But the fear of fearing fear is overwhelming Especially when its form becomes sheer
