The Saviour

When the cruel, uncaring world, after a tiring day of torturous turmoil, pushes me down to the bottom of the filthy dark pit of life.

And as I lie – bruised, beaten and helpless.


Your hand rests on my wrinkled forehead, softly soothing my troubled brow.

Your lips kissing my weary eye-lids,

And then gently holding my hand in yours you take me to the land of bubbling brooks and blooming blossoms.

Adding a pleasant interlude to the brutal interlude of struggle.

Thank you…Sleep!

The savior of wretched souls.


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