I am of this world.
And soon will I lie.
With only others
to tell my words, my name.
But not today.
Over the broad water,
by an autumn field.
The one I love.
Sundered from my soul.
Waits for my return.
Until I am wet with
dawn’s dew, and
her sweet lips.
I am unable to sleep
this long night.
A Wandering Poet 