In my dark room at night the thing I mostly miss

is someone's mouth to kiss goodnight, oh, sweet goodnight; so on my side I lay

and let my Fancy stray in any lonely way

before I turn out the light, sometimes I take my hand and press it to my cheek, sometimes I even speakbut who would understand? In my dark room the hours slide by on easy wings and in my ear there sings a song of promise bright that leaves a tiny spark to help confront the dark. In my dark room at night— But waking,

the world

seems bitter, and I lay curled against my pillow and warm inside the covers, no charm to the morning I think and my eyes start to blink open, waking.

Another day

I say,

and something seems to play through my mind like a tune that I can't get, and I moon

over nothing for

whole minutes or

let it go without a guess, and it is

getting late, I can't miss

that last bus For a moment I seem

caught up in the fragment of a dream the dream of a kiss-

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