Saturday, January 31, 2015

A beautiful poem

 When you go, if you go, and should want to die, there's nothing I'd be saved by more than the time you fell asleep in my arms in a trust so gentle
I let the darkening room drink up the evening till rest, or the new rain lightly roused you awake
I asked if you heard the rain in your dream and half dreaming still you only said, "I love you."   


                                                                                                                  ----- by Edwin Morgan

No comments:

Post a Comment