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I hate it when he leaves at night,
When those few dreadful words take flight;
“Goodnight, my Sweet, tomorrow calls,
The moon has peaked, and now it falls,
And I must sadly go to bed,
Where only dreams of you will tread.”
If he must sleep, I'm glad he dreams,
I hope our time together gleams.
We live apart, so when he leaves,
There's part of me that always grieves.
Now, hours have passed; I miss him still,
Of time alone I've had my fill.
Tomorrow's dawn will soon be here,
And with the sun his arms draw near.
And so, to speed the moon's descent,
I'll go to bed, and I'll relent,
And while I dream, I'll dream of him,
Until the moon begins to dim
And dawn takes hold; and in the light
His absence of the previous night
Is healed.