Four A.M., Possibly Wednesday
I kissed your hair in the nothingness of morning.
I put my lips to your shoulder as still you slept,
replaced the blanket that kept you a child.
I lay my hand on your hip, and for a moment thought
I heard your dreams released in a sweet, warm breath.
But you told me later that your sleep was dreamless,
and I told you I dreamed, but did not sleep,
for fear sleep would have stolen my dream.
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Comments about this poem (Four A.M., Possibly Wednesday by Anton Leyland )
- dreams and reality, Rahman Henry
- To Alex. Cunningham, Esq., Writer, Edinb.., Robert Burns
- So many faces, gajanan mishra
- On the Seas and far away, Robert Burns
- Steel Funeral, Dazairie Ronay
- Masonic Song—Ye Sons of Old Killie, Robert Burns
- Lost My Smile, Ronald Chapman
- The Farewell to the Brethren of St. Jame.., Robert Burns
- To the beautiful Miss Eliza J——n, on her.., Robert Burns
- A Rose-bud by my Early Walk, Robert Burns
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