The Picture of His Face

[LorettaYoung]

The Picture of His Face (edit 1)

Sweet sleep, I beg to rest serene;
but sudden storms invade my dreams,
and tempests rage in vivid scenes.
And though dear Lord you follow me,
and for my sake do part the sea:
his naked face will always be,
the cunning ghost who's haunting me.

Weary eyes although they laugh,
they say they've cried much in the past.
Of course, the smile, a poet's wile;
which sings sweet music with purposed guile.
The heartfelt love, the selfish cad;
mischief, was the younger lad.
That knowing grin has lived so much;
now sets his teeth in paper cups.

I feel the face, it's etched in me.
With fingers gently lovingly;
caressing haunted history,
and treasuring the memory,
of all his face engulfs in me.

And then I wake, the world is bland,
I find therein, my empty hands.


The Picture of His Face (original)

Sweet sleep, I beg to rest serene, but
sudden storms invade my dreams, and
tempests rage in vivid scenes.
And though dear Lord you follow me, and
Fr my sea do part the sea:
His naked face will always be,
a cunning ghost that's haunting me.

Weary eyes although the laugh,
they say they've cried much in the past
Of course the smile, a poet's wile;
which sings sweet music with purposed guile.
The heartfelt love, the selfish cad;
mischief was the younger lad.
That knowing grin has seen and touched:
A life on stage, not sets his teeth in paper cups

I feel the face, it's etched in me
with fingers gently lovingly;
caressing haunting history
and treasuring the memory
of all his face engulfs in me

And then I wake the world is bland:
I find therein my empty hands