I draw the curtains like drawing clouds across a sunny day,
enjoying the stillness and clarity of a darkened room,
laying on the bed next to my soul,
whispering secrets of journeys into barren lands,
my old friend has fought in many wars,
tasted victories and lamented loss,
pleaded to end the pilgrims march,
but my old friend there is work to be done,
one more toast to raise our glasses to,
incumbent pleasures for us to keep,
then my friend we'll find eternal sleep.