You

Like moths to a flame
My thoughts fly
Far from here
To their homing
For I
Am thinking
Of you

Echoes that remain
My heart sighs
Naught is clear
Restless roaming
For I
Am yearning
For you

Tis always the same
My nights go by
With you near
In the gloaming
For I
Am dreaming
of you.

E.M. Swift-Hook

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