What else could I write
For it’ll still be a sad night.
These thoughts become so dreary
Then, of this night, I’ll become weary.
So I pray to you God of my thinking,
Cease my habition, let this body have it’s peaceful winking.
But if dream I must, grant me this and satisfied I shall be:
Make her understanding, and enchanted by only me.
Bestow in her a personality like that of myth
And with her, my whole life, I’d spend with.
Mind I not that it’ll come to me in a state of distraught;
Her tip toeing in my head will calm that thought.
I beg you let me see those eyes, soul, or any part;
Let change come to my dreams and swoon this tired heart.