(Sonnet No.3)

Tonight my heart will not be cold at all,

I cannot say the same about my bed;

For if my love were here, her name I’d call,

and she could be my whole night’s warmth; instead,

Of water jars and blankets warm and cheap,

And pillows full of fresh plucked eider down;

If she were here then I could go to sleep,

And in my dreams of love I’d gladly drown.

She’s gone, my heart will not let me forget,

How many times I’ve dreamed she’d keep me warm;

And now though tears have made my pillow wet,

Perhaps she’ll come to calm my mental storm.

But no, this night alone is meant to be,

Because my love lies far away from me.

Brendan Martin – Breno©