Some times I dream you

holding my heart in your hands

and breathless

I wait to see

what you do with

its beating pulse;

I exist  then only with

my anxious soul

which hopes

my heart

will return home

and bring you

too.

Sometimes I take your kiss

since your are not here

and place it on my lips

and that is many times

enough

for the long night.

Sometimes I beat back

the lonely hour

within these heartless minutes

and my soul

rides the brocade flower quilt

mother made

knowing

each night

it is the field

where hearts

and souls play.

At the edge of my endurance

I wrap my own arms

around my torso

for my own good night kiss

whispering to my night-quilt;

confessing that it is you

I miss

even though

you don't yet

really exist.