To you I seem to sleep
But to me I am but resting as I await your slightest desire
That I might do you ease.
That you might call my name and bid me sing to you
To wile the long hours
In soft congeniality
And await the passing of all pain and dolour.
Touching fingertip to fingertip
Might light a magic circle around us
And snug within it’s safe enclosure
Will finally sleep secure from all fear
Just as we did as children.
- So doth My Sweetheart