Virgin (p c)
Sometime, at night before the gloom,
i crept, silence before and behind,
quite sure, to where you lay,
and light wept with your head on the pillow.
And i cried for your loss,
i looked, and the light had paled,
and the silence was no longer there,
i should not remember that night.
But daylight will reach towards me,
and a light tangible, will manifest,
i will smile with a thought of your holiness,
that i keep from the dark in my nights.
But the nights that i keep in your silence,
perhaps a torment is mine, deserved,
a price on your head for the pillow,
to prove that the crying was done.