The pain
this agony of want
that here upon the tides of man
begs and tears
rips open the soft muscle of heart
and wears forever the thought.

These dreams
that come upon the wings of night
gathers me deep
hovers complete
to every image, the tangible thought
Of you, my love.

As if nothing evolves
grows to any length or depth of day
But hinges its dream, its reality
here where in memories soft
You come and rest
to laugh and cry
The song of my heart.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph