Wind falls the quiet sound
Only heartbeats can be found
Pulsating louder in my mind
As try I might but cannot find

The key to open a chest so rare
Is to bequeath a soul mate to share
The special moment when the light exudes
All around and love consumes

If one cannot have the elusive prize
And blind takes the sight of loving eyes
Then broken times lay ahead
And peace shall be found
Within your bed

I am the night owl
flapping its wings
stealthily through your dreams
with a soft  feathery touch
    you may remember
       you once imagined
like the figure at the end
    of the corridor
    whose face always remains
    in the shadow

I am the sower of images
   growing from the dark
touching your mind gently
tapping at forbidden doors
   closed to the brighter hours

I am the prowler of twilight thoughts
that lend shapes
     to your hopes
     and fears and desires
living their lives
     in between

I am the night owl
that shudders
    and folds its wings quietly
when the sun rises
    always too soon
patiently waiting again
until the day is done

* *

Lay me down beside my love to sleep.
Close my eyelids gently, let me weep.
Mend my broken heart that I can grieve,
For her kisses may I no longer receive.

And prepared is that eternal bed,
Where my dear shall lay her lovely head.
Now lay me down beside my love to sleep.
Close my eyelids gently, let me weep.

My love, my love, mon petit amour,
Never again shall I meet one so true.
So lay me down beside my love to sleep.
Leave me with precious memories to keep.

Today,
The grey pallor of death came calling
Not a gentle knock on the door
Or friendly tap on the window
It did not leave flowers on the sill
Or chocolates on the side table
But breezed through the hallway
Collecting a debt on a life long lived
Leaving shadows of memories
For the living to remember

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
  And rarely pipes the mounted thrush;
  Or underneath the barren bush
Flits by the sea-blue bird of March;

Come, wear the form by which I know
  Thy spirit in time among thy peers;
  The hope of unaccomplish'd years
Be large and lucid round thy brow.

When summer's hourly-mellowing change
  May breathe, with many roses sweet,
  Upon the thousand waves of wheat,
That ripple round the lonely grange;

Come: not in watches of the night,
  But where the sunbeam broodeth warm,
  Come, beauteous in thine after form,
And like a finer light in light.