To have you, to hold you,
I may only dream.
From this worn and faded pillow I hold,
That's unraveling at the seams.

This place of woven dreams,
Sometimes they render apart.
But the need does not fade,
For it's a keepsake of my heart.

Something old and tattered,
Something withered and worn.
Something small and fragile,
That I still adore.

Like a shadow in my mind,
Your presence lingers there.
A moments glimpse, a haunting touch,
And then you disappear.

For only a moment I stray,
Inevitably I weep.
Emotional rush like a raging hell,
Comes to drown me in my sleep.

These memories, an ocean of mirrors,
Between your soul and mine.
A place where only reflections touch,
When they have outlived their time.

So if there should come a moment,
You too find somewhat hard to bare.
Close your eyes, remember me,
And you'll find me waiting there.

So go on and cry,
Let the tears overflow.
I'll wipe them all away,
If only in the pillow you hold.

And whenever you may be reaching out,
On nights so cold and deep.
It is there I will hold you,
When you fall asleep.
 
© David Slone 2007