The shimmer of the morning cold
seemed to stroke its fingers across
my late morning dream.
You turned towards me,
a smile pressed the fontanelle
of my lucid vulnerability.
Languid, the chill of the outside
rippled through the windows
whilst I lay most content.
The halls were golden,
there was a swimming pool,
as I remember.
There you lay between a mirror
and the orchestra played Greensleeves.
You had turned away to face me
and smiled through me at first.
Your skin was golden
and the hall smelled sweet of summer.
I felt the touch of daisies as the room melted away
until just you and I shared a warm smile
and your stomach was pressed upon mine.
Honest and genuine,
I haven't seen you in some time.
Throughout my day,
my weeks and even years.
There you remain in memory,
teasing.
Sleep's pintle,
I questioned.
Lucidly awake I begged,
Sleepily drifting I forget.
The deep brown of your eyes let the world fall behind us
as my soul was transformed and I explored
the depths of your soul in that long long stare.
'We'll meet again' she said delicately.
The band left me giddy.
I felt so warm.
Your eyes left me
against formality.
The room was dead.
The arms around me were mine.
A strong tear was all that remained.
Oh my folly,
come back to me!
Come back to me!
The room was dead.
The following sleep was a lonely field of snow,
at least with her gone.
Ross Mackay
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-be-there-be/
