Joanathan Dodd

 

   

Where do you go to, my Love, every night?

What destination the train that you ride?

You stir and you roll, you turn on your side,

And then you lie still, as if you've arrived.

I whisper your name, I hold out my hand,

But your path has wings while mine drags in sand,

And helpless I watch your flight through the dark,

A snuffling hedgehog observing a lark.