The Thought of her Keeps me up Each Night...

She's deceased and I am restless
In melancholy darkness.
The big nightly winds through my open window,
Blows back the blood from my open wounds.

I lay spreaded on the floor.
Aled up.
Dizzy from much wine...
I feel the breeze upon my bare skin.
Chills that trail downwards.
And then I hear her distant mellifluous voice.
I've always said that she sounds like an angel.

Some nights, bright light beam into my window.
And I gaze into it.
I speak "My love, I've been gloomy for so long."
Through the light I see something tremendous....

And I can hear her sing.