In This Dark Hour Alternate Version Poem by DM W

It's such a relief to speak with you again.
In this dark hour when I have discarded
The feathered heaven of poetry.
For all the words have lost their meaning.
Although the bleak rains Of separation
Surround us, I'm pleased that your here.
All the wise blood has fled from my forehead
O I guess Time is a malignant beast.
It is pitiless in its monotonous passing.
Each moment seems to be a hell of my own making
In this dark hour, it is not your body
I want; but your dreams and your quiet company.