This bed is empty
Beside me, where you
Once lay your hair.
It is not on your pillow,
Now gone cold, in your absence.

I do not know these days
What love is;
What sleep is?

This bed is empty
Beside me, where i
Once lay my head.
It is not on that pillow,
Now, that my sleep takes hold,
Only seldom on this chair
After long, lone hours with the pen,
Do I fall into dream.

Will you be back?
Will you, kind stranger,
Be back someday soon
To warm this bed.
The pillow awaits me.
I only long for the day.

Will I find love?
Have I, ever, found love?
I can only wish her back,
My mistress of the night.

This bed is empty
And I sing out this song
Sweet Insomnia took me in,
Pulling me farther away;
Her beauty becoming a distant thought.

Sleep will come in time
When women run rampant
In my dreams of better days.
Where I’ll pick out, you, the
Sweet slumberer of my night.

This bed will not be empty
Beside me, you will lay
Your hair flowing long
On your pillow by my head.

Your absence, in the past;
Our union, intertwined.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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