There is a poem that awaits
To be discovered,
A seed of thought that wants its
petals in the wind.
It was born of a woman I made
Impossible love to,
Heralded by her missed touch.

The verses are kissed with her
Destinies and embraces,
The light she left in my soul
Tells me of a place
I will write;
A Nightingale's dance under
The tranquil Moon's glow.

And only I know the words,
But they slip into dimensions
Unknown to me;
As though they take flight in
All my dreams.....

Under endless recollections
I sigh a thousand times from
A fountain among highest heights,
That of the waters of  memory
That evades me.