For the sake of context, from 2004 until 2007, I commuted from my home to Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I lived on campus in one of the dorms from Sunday until Friday, and then returned home for the weekend. Needless to say, I missed my wife and children. One evening in 2006, I ended a conversation with my wife by saying, “I’ll see you tonight in my dreams.” Before bed, I wrote this poem.

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Make haste! I must be off to sleep!
For so a date I’m bound to keep,
Is with my love for whom I care
Who hastens, too, to meet me there.

Within my cell, in solitude,
The bricks that form its fortitude
Cannot contain my lofty flight
Nor bound my dear to such a plight.

In darkness, still, I do recline
To gather with this love of mine.
My eyes doth close, then open wide
To see the sun and ocean tide.

Amidst the wind and gentle wave
This olden gent becomes a knave
Within her arms and there to rest
Receiving that which God has blessed.

Her whisper is for me the breeze
That lifts the winged ones with ease
Above the earth and wretched one
To match the glory of the sun.

But as with morn, there comes the eve.
Though these fair captives taste reprieve,
They must return by bitter shove
And waken now without their love.

For such is that which bears me home
The promise of tomorrow’s roam.
If only for a little while,
This dreadful cell will me beguile.

But as with morn, there comes the eve.
My bed will beckon and receive.
Make haste! I must be off to sleep!
For so a date I’m bound to keep.

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For my dearest Jennifer — 6 November AD 2006