Oblivious Short Stories

In the last of night’s hours love are ringing

For those of us who retreat,

Not yet in time each other seize.

In choice and anguish

and loveless ease

We hurry, tired, goes to sleep

In a bed of hope

Of great expending

Although such is the remaining

Full of expressions

yet blank in words.

Foul of nature

In gentle urge

Bridled

With grey extending

Cold and damp

In endless ending.

Once in a song

Our grave is dark

But faith is strong

In vastly hearts.

Once we sang

While our bodies where meeting

We ate and drank

With continual repeating