And still turning away I cannot stem memory’s tide.
I sleep fitfully, seeking escape not rest.
But sleep too has failed to blot out
The haunting image of your face.
And unconscious too I seek your closeness,
Like a moth seeking certain pain kisses the flame.
And like a picture aglow in bright colour is etched that night
Like a prisoner's scar thrusts angrily against all covering,
And ceaselessly he relives the moment of branding and smells again The abuse of his flesh.
I too am prisoner to the thought of you,
Waking, sleeping and ever.
It was a dark night I recall,
A dark night by the river as clouds sought to veil the moon's beauty,
Yet could not stop the crest reaching up for another kiss of moonbeam.
We sat holding hands, lovers, seeking bliss.
More words were heard than were spoken,
And the heart learnt the language of the eyes and bared itself.
Soft weeping wind in rainy droplets washed away all pretence
And I, ever voluble, was struck mute
By the words I heard unspoken by your eyes.
Do you recall?