Mists weaving, creeping, past my sight,
Heralding the coming night,
In silence,
Suspended thoughts, in troubled mind,
A memory grasped then left behind,
In darkness,
A distant sound, the weeping girl,
Darker, mists that gently swirl,
Then, the light,
Of the holy sight,
Of heaven and the single saint,
A sight of awe, yet only faint,
The weeping girls last plea,
In love please hear, I beg of thee.
Remember me.
Laurie hill
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/remember-me-49/
