Poem By Cleveland W. Gibson

In bed,
On a silent night,
no whisper I hear,
as inward my mind
often bends with fear.

It is,
Then straight from the heart,
comes a strong drum beat,
death like a lion,
stalks in our street.

Oh my,
The deamons are spinning,
Which way must I turn?
Or should I do nothing?
That's no way to learn.

I sweat,
So I act at once,
I brook no delay,
Pray to the Godhead,
Hear what He must say.

I think,
The dice is good,
the cards back bad,
ever still we wait,
unfold a new fad.

But dark or light,
the line is drawn,
who might creep in
to look forlorn.

Give me that plan
of never to fall,
so I'll need not return
to rebuild it all.

Let me,
Rest my head down,
Full sleep in the night,
Like any young baby,
no bad dreams, no fright.

The end

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