Hide me in your night's profundity,
And help me to remember Eve's
Loving embrace after the Loss.

Croon your sleeping squirrel sorrow
On the pane of my closed window tonight,
Let fly my dreams upon your indifference.

Sway with me ever so gently
As I follow November leaves
Into the crumbled rocks that held the Cross.

For I have nothing now but what I know
Of a place where I could grow light
In the damp soil of remembrance.