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Aug 2015
Her memory, the love of she,
In slumber,
That time when sadness sooths itself,
Pays to me a call.
And I, a lone warlock in the dark,
Feel the mattress demit as she sits,
And know her gentle touch on my face,
As I did when I was young.
I  am trembled by her resonance,
(*******, I am trying to sleep!)
Then, I wake to understand what has transpired.
Then, am blessed to have felt her love once more.
Then, I bid her go to God.
But, I do thank her for her visit.
This is a new poem. I submitted it as soon as it was complete. I spent about half an hour working with it. It is very personal. 3:49pm. Aug 19, 2015.
Cecil Miller
Written by
Cecil Miller  Louisiana
(Louisiana)   
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