In his sleep

I feel soft ghostly hands around my throat

That want to pull me to the  darkest deep

My husband cannot leave or be remote

He wishes me to join him in his sleep.

 

I shall resist, for I desire to live

Though lonely are my hours without his face.

I have no more I wish to give

And he has taken from me his  warm embrace.

 

As lonely as a swan without its mate.

As tired as  swallows after they migrate

As  empty as Ted Hughes without his bait

As  fruitless as a garden with no gate



From my loss I may recover when

The birds return and summer comes again