In This Dark Hour Poem by DM W

Speaking to you
In this dark hour
Isn't easy for me.
For I have lost
The softened words
Of feathered poetry.

Now the bleak rains
Of separation
Surround us, all the wise blood
Has fled from my forehead.
I pick golden fragments
From time's ruins.

O Time is a malignant beast:
Pitiless in its passing!
Each moment seems to be
A hell of our own making.

In this dark hour
It is not your body
I want; but your dreams
And your quiet company.