Another poem

Emptiness. Some little wine.
Yet silence reigns in air.
A little hope, though so long time
I've dreamt about a woman fine.

So far away, a thousand miles,
and even more it seems at nights.
I draw a picture from a file
and let it shine in candlelights.

A portrait's fair, but still so cold
I feel in lyin' on cozy bed.
Where is the peace from days of old;
when heart of mine with peace was fed?

And restlessness now makes me stand,
through darkest night it makes me go,
and when the morning gives a hand,
I think I see the portrait's glow.

It calls me somewhere far away,
it calls me to that woman fine.
Nomore I feel I wish to stay...
Nomore I want to waste my time...

W. Hocares