Coming to thy lap*

Coming to thy lap*

Whence all the works are left
Done, how me comes,
To You, thy lap,
Of the dreamy sky,
Singing a tune,
C, nocturne,

How i leave
The pages of the book,
And under the wraps
Of Thy sweet embrace,
How i come,
To dreams of twinkling
Bodies, Celestial.

(*Note: upon a painting, loosely based, as attached, courtesy : Sam Carlo)

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