How could I not feel you breathe,
or count the flutter of your eyelashes
when your heart beats a slower pace than mine
beneath my shivering hand?
The wistful depth in your eyes
is telling me your virgin story
and I am lying here by your side
dreaming my jaded dream
that you be there for good
to soothe my ferocious waters
and dodge the unyielding course,
the arrogant manners of Time.
*
Dreams belong to yesterday
and seldom come to the fore.
Now I'm here by myself
with the unabated waters of my heart.
Your smell, long clouding your loss,
is hovering around no more.
While you -
are not,
I’m waiting on this trodden out porch,
rolling hours under my feet
as the clock tower across the yard
casually strikes midnight
singing for the death of the waning day
and for the dawn of just another.
