Weaving softly through my dreams
As gentle as a murmured prayer,
While I the wide eyed sleeper feel
Her essence in me everywhere.
There is no shallow in her eyes
No lineament to less extol,
She moves enticing lips to mine
And breathes her music to my soul.
Too soon the jealous Eos spreads
Her fingers to reclaim her throne,
And with the scarlet blushing dawn
The dreams recede I cannot own.
Though I inhale her autograph
Left ne by this natures child,
The sweet perfume of ardent love
Bouquet of honeysuckle wild.
Copyright© Alan Gilbert.