Nicholas Bradvica Poetry

At night when sleep is scarce like summer days,
She creeps into my thoughts as if a dream;
And though her warmth may not be as it seems,
I love to see her face at midnight's haze,
Then walk, I do, right through that lover's maze
With naught but light cast down from winter's moon,
Indeed I pray that I will see her soon,
But lost in memory I only gaze;
Forsook by lonely nights I rest assured
That she, in her own bed, doth better sleep,
For by her tempting eyes have I been lured;
As though but one of not ten-thousand sheep,
And thus, at night I dream of love's shepherd,
To grant me peace when I can only weep.

Poet: Nicholas Bradvica