The evening hangs beneath the moon, a silver thread on darkened dune. With closing eyes and resting head; I know that sleep is coming soon. Upon my pillow, safe in bed, a thousand pictures fill my head, I cannot sleep, my miss aflight; and yet my limbs seems made of lead. If there are noises in the night, a frightening shadow, flickering light; Then I surrender unto sleep, where the clouds of dream give second sight. What dreams may come, both dark and deep--of flying wings and soaring leap? As I surrender unto sleep. As I surrender unto sleep. Sleep... Sleep... Sleep. Going to miss you, Grandma. youtu.be/bxjWNJU8rNE
Posted on: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 18:51:10 +0000
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