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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