I hear your voice in my head
The soft tones vibrating
in harmonic radiance
My voice laughing in delight
to a half hidden smile
I feel your breathe on my skin
Its warmth a fantasy
Our long walks a dalliance
You have never heard my thoughts
But I yours a million times over
Images of dreams best forgotten
To be lost on incoming tides
My darling, you have never existed
I pieced you together from youth's desire
On whim I felt you: what could have been
And I to pounder joy that might have been
If life had not placed you with such distance
That you should never hear me
But I an image of you
How insidious of fate for I to never know
Your voice a mocking tone
And I lost in sadistic hope
A hope founded on fantasy
My heart still talks
And I wonder why
YOU ARE READING
March of the Flowers
PoetryOne by one, we march. We march. Our branches tired. Our leaves are wearied. March of the Flowers is a collection of poetry
