Where do you go when you dream?
Is it back to the place you were born?
Do you cry in your thoughts as you sleep?
Why do you lie so forlorn?

You no longer warm to my touch.
Are you no longer in love?
Why do you shun the daylight,
The blue of the sky, up above?

Why do you lie in the darkness?
Why can't we be as before?
Why won't you take my hand in yours,
And lead me out the door?

Are you annoyed my darling?
Was it something that I said?
I'm sorry I was so angry!
Please raise up your head!

Why will you not answer me?
Why won't you open your eyes?
Why won't you crush the spider,
Or sweep away the flies?

Why do you insist on wearing
A dress so stained and torn?
But at least the blood is drying,
In the warmth of early morn.

I hear voices raised in anger,
Coming from somewhere near.
Now there's hammering at the door.
Stay. I'll be back soon, my dear.


Penned by my hand on the 19th of Scarlatan, in the year 379 AF.