She walks still yet the mother
Between the hours from midnight to dawn;
Searching for her long lost lover
And the children to whom them were born.

The beds now are empty
The rooms lonely forlorn;
She stands on the hearth of memory
A haven for those who mourn.

The beds are now filled with children,
Her lover is warm by her side;
Her tears she'll save for tomorrow
Not drown in the morning tide.'

For between the hours from midnight to morning
When the world is silent at rest;
She lives on in her world full of memories
And dreams again of their sweet warm caress.
© Helen Catherine Cramer
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