At The Break Of Day. Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

At the break of day,
when the birds begin to sing.
In the haunted morning hours
when the church bell rings.

As I look out the window
and see your ship sail away,
to lands over the horizon,
praying for the day
that you will return,
till then I will mourn.

The room is cold and empty,
until I light the fire.
You were the one to notice
the storms in my eyes.
You were the one
who lifted my spirits as high as the skies.


The days will be cold and empty
until your return.
The sunlight will not bring me warmth,
The daylight no surprise.
The empty hours drift endlessly
as I wait for you and mourn.

Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .