In this hour, I awake to find you awake. I’ve seen you here before, but not from this place. It seems fitting then that I have lost mine. In this hour, even this hour, I know His hand is at work.
Out late, up late, I don’t know which – but concern, and troubling jealously, turn within me, and I can do nothing but let what may inspire my pen to comfort you in some unknown hour to come.
You’re restless, and I worry, but I’m strangely comforted by ills, forgotten, that brought me here to conscious moment, here, in this hour, to see you and plan for your good.
In this hour, I awake to find you awake. I know the many reasons why, so I do what only I can do: I pray to God above, this night, to care and love you through.