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Bed of stone
 

The night the sandman failed to call,

He didn't leave a card at all,

She tried to sleep, but sleep proved hard,

The night she nursed a broken heart.

 

The night was long, the dark air cold,

The bed no more than Hell on hold,

The temperature - high disbelief,

Her poor heart couldn't grasp 'why me.'

 

Midnight phantoms filled her head,

They spun their tales of jealous dread,

Haunting whispers filled her ears,

A shadow pointed - falsehood near.

 

Tonight her love has come undone,

The wasted years where have they gone?

From warm heart in a loving breast,

A bed of stone is all that's left.

 

© Joseph G Dawson