The Weeping Hours

In the mellow hours, she wept,
That time of velvet night.
I heard her from my window;
Restless, I paced a dream,
And thought it an angel, or faerie, or queen.
Lightless, I sought her,
Stole upon her tears,
But the witching hour concealed her,
Her sadness unrevealed.
I’d wake for years and hear her,
Although I’d moved away,
My theory formed from madness,
She wept from inside me.

11 thoughts on “The Weeping Hours

  1. Richard, the complexity, depth and scope of your poetry and writing keeps getting better and better …and better and better. Bravo! Encore … Encore πŸ™‚

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