The Thief Of The Morning Poem by John Dowdall

When I'm gone, it won't be in vain.
I stand and make our restitution here.
Their was something I couldn't see,
our dreams were pushed through muslin, they couldn't
dare filter through, to the cares
that too deeply affected me and you.

I fell in love many years ago.
Her voice was clear and her face noble.
Her heart was pure and her visage shined,
bright and true, when she said I can't
love you

Y'see, we are just too alike,
our hearts are true
and our wishes joined.
If, my soul mate, we can't be free,
together, it is only because we,

are frightened in the face of love.
Ne'er to give or recieve
our cross. The duty bounds us more
than our cause. My soul mate, though
you are so true, we are still too young!

There is nothing left of our love.
But, because our hearts are affected so,
you went on to find happiness, and
I evolved. And when the thief of the morning
comes to carry us home?

Say you refuse,
'cause we live in different worlds.
Our fate together cannot be,
our salutations made across the void
and a mutual, shyly, stolen glance
will have to suffice.