Hurry And Come Dear, But Not To Me Poem by James McLain

Hurry dear,
But do not come to me.
One last time,
I lay silent and lay still.

My red rose,
My lip's were they to sweet?
In my yard,
There is no room
In my backyard, for a tree.

I saw the look upon your face,
I t will not be addressed.
My face now is,
As white as snow, but it's not
Your snow on me.

If love
should come again tonight,
To him, I give my best.
Tell him now,
that what I need is rest.