Some Things Cannot Be Forgotten

I felt his hand against my cheek

A tear path paving lines in my sleep--

Love found itself growing in those 

Crow's feet, like dandelions on the sidewalk.

I paid no attention to the birds

In my garden all day, and all night 

Owls watched the window where 

The candles always sit. 

I felt his hand against my cheek 

Between dream and dawn-light--

Between hope and disaster, despair is 

A catalyst to them both.

The way a sleeping man reaches out 

For tenderness is telling 

Of a better world long lost. 

I slip into the dreams and my hands 

Fade through his, somewhere he 

Is still touching my face in adoration--

I'm flying aeroplanes, I'm twelve thousand feet high.

War is a terrible, distracting place to 

Find oneself wanting -- Want, the absence of 

His hands is going to kill me, I think.

Then no, the war has been over for years--

My hands still know the aeroplane. 

Desperate for a softness against my cheek.