April 20, I Remember

Another love-ish poem. This, like so many others, is about how love dies so often not with a bang, but, well...you know

I have seen,

            And on this most sacred of days

            When the sky is a blue haze

            That mirrors the sweetness

            On my tongue,

            I remember my dreams.

My infrequent dreams.

    Th’ first was of you,

        And your taste hung

          About me when I awoke.

    Th’ last was of you,

        And my hands glitter

           With your touch even now.

I look and I see

            The world has not ended

                   After all.

But with the sweet of your

Strawberry mouth

     My life halts

     As I feel my heart slow,

        And skip

While I shiver with anticipation

    Of things I fear

        Will never come.