Blackened wood with scratches from a pen.The tip tore through paper and bled.The drip of hot wax, signed and sealed.A flame burns below dried flowers.It reaches up to burn the petals.Just out of reach, the flame dies out.A breeze from the open window.Air from the cool autumn eve.Out above the changing trees,Burns a waning sun and a waxing moon.Crumbled notes of practiced words are scattered.The final draft waits to be addressed.Daylight fading and candle blown out,The open frame must be shut and curtains drawn.Starlight is not enough to fill a room.With winter bringing early nights.One cannot see their work.A second source of light must be found.Feeling around for matches is pointless in the dark.There is no coal, or flint, or torch.A door opens and your love steps in.The room is suddenly bright.They're smiling.A smile that could shine across the world.Is certainly enough to flood this space.The moon climbs high and your love grows dim.As they slowly drift to sleep.Goodnight my love, I wish you wellWith sweet dreams the whole night through.I wish all would dream of lovely things.So then I will dream of you.