My Love wakes in a puddle of sunlight. Her hands asleep beside her. Her hair draped on the lawnlike a mantle of cloth.I give her my troth, for our love is wholeI sing her beauty in my soul
We were hooked when we woke. We had arms for each other. But I yearned to resumeMy dreams of another.
Who worries for dying? If I close my eyes tonight, I will either dream, or not, or my eyes will open and I will be here again. And if none of those happen, and I do not wake? Who worries for dying?