It has been surpassing long
since you came to me,
in the kaleidoscope of dreams,
the delta of the streams.
I had thought, resigned myself,
that I was done with that,
or it with me
for to be free,
of your dreamscape visitations
was no desire of mine.
Did I conjure you
the shape and hue, that once I knew
from the hope chest of memory?
or from a distant ocean shore,
a tattered, battered ghost ship
of unsubstantiated wishes,
like loaves and fishes,
the magnetic pull
of slumbering desire.
You came as before
in the guise of need.
no intention, quite by chance,
fortuitous happenstance,
I knew but one night’s sleep
I would spend with you.
and then no more. yet,
I was willing, to unbar the door.
Of all the squandered opportunities,
the chances never taken,
the overwhelming moments
left to wither on the vine,
this, oh this, I shall regret,
this unpaid debt, that shimmers yet,
this I will unrelenting mourn.
what could have been
had I but seen
this distant day when
even still you come in dreams
across the decades in between,
and yet again
slip through my grasp,
I cannot close the circle.
still I keep a vacant place
in my dreamscapes for your face,
had I but seen, had I but known
what was etched into the stone,
such different choices I would have owned.
will I conjure you again,
when the moon is on the wane?
once more to regret
and even yet, I keep a place.
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