I sit besides the river and weep

It never felt improper to dream.
But tonight, my dream makes me cry.
I wait for the morning.

The distant stars and the lovely moon echo the grief of my heavy heart.
The dark night seems familiar. Come thief, steal my heart; it’s ripe.

I am too bored to breathe. My heart is sinking, and so am I.
My will flees me, and the night is darkening.
I wait for the morning.

Come again.

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~ by Bombadil on December 8, 2011.

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