I Must Sit And While And Dream Poem by James McLain

It is, no matter, that the rain, softly it falls, into
some ground from me.
Weary it is, that i am, i am to weary to be
yet i am with you, in this, your rain.
It is quite, it is soft, not as soft, as the pink
that i love, and adore, when i fall as a feather,
into you sound asleep and wile a'dream.

That tree, the limbs bow, through the grace of years.
Her moss when damp, keeps the musky tears, deep
inside, the hollow of her heart, to hold dear, i am lost in.
She looks, it is a heartfelt glance, i steal the look with my
eyes, as i kneel, at the throne of her feet, once more to die
as she cries, and i wander lost and while i dream.