The night wind lifts the curtain softly over my head
As I lay fitfully sleeping, tossing, turning, in my bed
A soft but clear voice whispers so lovingly in my ear
"Awake now from dreaming my dear one, I am here"
Why this voice of a loved one so fills me with dread
What matters not if they are living or they are dead
Is not that they come in the very darkest of the night
Nor that they fill my very being with paralyzing fright
The thoughts of ghost stories raise no alarm in me
I have no fears of what the supernatural might be
It's not that this coming frightens me to my very core
But that the voice will stop, and come to me never more