Thursday, 11 October 2012

When I Can't Sleep

I sometimes dream of isles in the sun
The many trophies I have won
And the odd skies above me that stair
At my great abundance with no one with whom to share
Often she would say in her dying glory that I toiled in vain
It is essentially foolish to have success for no real gain
For with taking victory comes forgetting love
Flying about alone thou art a lost dove
In thy white robe you shall carry joy without will
But neglected you’ll feel still
You may know how to mend the wounded
Oh but your aid remains candidly secluded

Early Xmas Morning
Copyright JR Thomas
December 25, 2007

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