Things I miss tonight: my husband beside me, my daughter telling me about her day, and yes, the cat poking me.
Things I have tonight: beautiful friends who show their love in both word and deed.
I'm in New York City now, listening to the wind roar outside my room. The sound of the wind on a stormy night always brings to mind a ballad I read in a book on vampires many years ago. I don't recall the title of the book, and the ballad was one of those anonymous ballads that has been reprinted dozens of times in various books.
When I hear the wind and see a smattering of rain, the first lines of "The Unquiet Grave" always pop into my mind. It goes like this:
‘THE WIND doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I had ere but one true-love;
In cold grave she was lain.
‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
As any young man may;
I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.’
The twelvemonth and a day being up,
The dead began to speak:
‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?’—
‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
And that is all I seek.’—
‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.
‘’Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that ere was seen
Is wither’d to a stalk.
‘The stalk is wither’d dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.’