I, woman, do not slumber,
nor do dream of valleys deep,
no soft caress or tender’s weep.
This heart alone, it cannot sleep.
Chambers left, a night that spans
the oft reflections not outdone.
Not ten thousand lights more sun
could comfort bind, restore; this one.
I, woman, heed, and fall.
I feel too much; perhaps it all.
Let me sleep, God’s grace be kind,
I offer thee -this life assigned.
Make me woman tender, good.
Do let my heart live as it should.
Grant that I am freed, extolled.
And take the dawn’s first love tenfold.
I am, I am, woman yours, God all-told.
©2012 Linda Willows