Author Anna Wickham To-night For the last time, I loose my hair to make a tent about you. Come, lay your head on my knees Your eyes are the lights of a town, And my body is a sheltering hill. Now my hair is a cloud, To hide you from the inquisitive stars. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments