My Beloved Serenades Me

Image by Tess Kincaid

My Beloved Serenades Me


My beloved serenades me
every evening after midnight
in the deepest, darkest hours,

sleeping softly, fresh as flowers.
Billows sweep; I hold on tight.
My beloved serenades me.

Charming lullaby, my sweet.
Power saw blows on with might
in the deepest, darkest hours,

like a backfire in the street.
Alarming throat play, never light;
my beloved serenades me.

Scaling walls at half past three,
roaring melody, my plight.
In the deepest, darkest hours,

betwixt pillows, still, I cower.
My beloved serenades me
in the deepest, darkest hours.



Tess Kincaid
January, 2010

Posted over on her site Willow Manor
Listed as #3 over on Magpie Tales 48