By Verana
A gentle touch,
A dying dream,
Something heard, but nothing seen.
The daylight fades from human eyes,
The moonlight wakes, the spirits cry,
For release granted only by the night.
A gentle touch,
A falling wing,
To earth the dreams are settling.
One alone wakes to hear the sound,
Of silence breaking all around,
But somehow, she knows,
Knows that he's come,
Even though they can't be one,
He watches over her.