When darkness and shadow come creeping in
I think of you and my night begins
I close my eyes and silence comes
The strains – they fade
And tranquility hums
And then I see you
There is peace to find
You appear quite clearly, there, in my mind
You sit there by my sleepy hollow
You sit there by my bed
And in your hand you hold a rose
Of softest deepest red
And all the night long you smile
You’re there it seems for eternity
Until morning comes and calls to me
Things In My Head 
So absolutely beautiful!
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You are so kind Carol. Thank you very much.
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My pleasure, Sue
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Check both hands. At our age someone by our bed at night holding a rose may also be holding a scythe.
IMHO the poem kinda suggests that even without the ‘bereavement’ tag.
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So true. I love your sinister/pessimistic/realistic perspective on things. We need to be vigilant. Thanks.
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I love this poem and so often those we love who have departed come to our side when we need them. The rose is a proof of something special between the two of you. What a beautiful experience.
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It’s very comforting sometimes to imagine those who we can’t be with, for whatever reason, getting us through the night or day. Aww, thank you for your thoughtful comment Nanette, it’s much appreciated.
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Your very welcome my pleasure
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