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Distant One

Though you can read there is no guarantee
that you should ever seek out word from me
though I have written countless poems too
solely addressing, solely seeking you.

But if in distant reach, in other country, you
should find my words and read them through
and understand the depths in which I sought
to gather them, and unto you them brought.

And if you should feel moved, if you should know
instinctually the span of space that go
directly from my heart to yours the moment when
you read my words – you read and comprehend,

then feel my warmth in words inlaid,
the deepest depths of feelings left unsaid
laid in-between my words as codes for you
to warm yourself at when you’ve read them through.

I write to you, address you best I can,
and with no guarantee you’ll understand,
though I can’t see your face nor read your mind,
wish you can nonetheless make sense of mine.

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Flashback to Elementary School

In rainy weather I remember
how she pulled over her head
the wide hood of her black coat
to protect her straightened hair
so that she wouldn’t take
the injury of curls
undone by rain and falling
to the wind in joyous whirls –

And whatever else she said
about the curse of curly hair,
I disagreed, but silently,
since I knew she wouldn’t hear
my words, if I were to say
that she was beautiful some day

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Lullaby For a Lover

Lay down your head     –     lay down to rest
here on my chest           –     heavy as lead,
and sleep my dear, sleep quietly,
sink into dreams’ imagery

Dream peacefully          –     dream to the dawn,
and in the morn            –     eventually
when you awake, calm and refreshed,
you’ll find your head still on my chest

Let no ill thought          –     disturb your dream,
no, let the stream          –     running from my heart
refresh you while you sleep and I
attend you with my lullaby

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I Watch You Sleep

With golden strings inwoven
like tiny light-beams,
with sunshine interwoven
in your hair, you rest in dreams,
your head upon my chest
with the golden hair cloven
into two braids of mild unrest

With eyelids flickering
observing your dreams,
you lay quivering,
uneasy, so it seems,
in my adoring arms
as I keep gently whispering
your name, oh, how it warms!

With regret I await
the moment you arise
and thereby close the gate
you opened to the skies
when your head rested,
here on my chest
for an hour truly blessed

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In Your Sleep You’re Mine

When awake you’re yours
but in your sleep you’re mine,
I steal you unbeknownst to you
with my eyes’ longing shine
when looking at your face at peace
and hoping that my presence may
cause you to dream of me
because I with you stayed

In your sleep you’re mine
and I will watch until I drift away
perhaps to join you where you went,
perhaps to wander my own way –
but as long as I stay awake
I’ll stay to watch your peaceful face
and listen to your steady breath;
you’re mine until my vision fades

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Last Night’s Dream

Last night I dreamt a dream delightful,
full of you and of your charms
as I held you in my loving arms,
you, Being, so immensely beautiful

I dreamt I saw your eyes emblazed
with happiness and care
as we affection shared,
you and I both equally amazed

And I dreamt that the ominous
winds keeping us apart
would then depart
when seeing our love, impetuous

I dreamt your crystal tears
would never fall for me
again, that we
should never have to face our fears

And I dreamt that the spacious
regions of above
opened for our love
to consume and envelop us

I dreamt there was no hindrance
to our dreams,
no means
by which I could lose your presence

I dreamt of you, sweet Muse,
your voice’s echo,
your hair’s halo,
as your passion me infused

I dreamt of nought but you
and of your soft,
gentle love
which I can only dream is true

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On Last Night’s Dream

Last night’s dream
is now a fleeting thought –
it evaded you at dawn
at sun’s first beam,
and if you aren’t careful, soon it’ll turn to nought

It remains, lingering
as a shadow in your heart –
thought less than feeling,
an impression remaining
in your subconscious, which you cannot quite call forth

Last night’s dream
was a dream; no more, no less –
now stored in memory,
fragmented, but not without esteem;
for it contained the essence of your every hope and wish