THE DREAMER

The night was misty like a vale of tears,
Then suddenly I saw in aging years
Hair that was dark and shining bright
Had turned to silver through the night.

Hands so white, calm and pale
Rested in her lap like a snow white veil,
Eyes that had once twinkled bright and blue
Were now closed in sad adieu.

I thought of this woman in her rocking chair.
My thoughts did wander here and there.
Lingering on the subject had made me cry.
Came the dawn, this woman was I.



(c) Gwen Beauregard - 1959 - All Rights Reserved