Poetry - Portraiture

Photosource: http://maureentillman.blogspot.sg/2013_06_01_archive.html

It was that kind of a day -

Discouraged, exhausted and hectic;

The kind of day that bore hopes,

Yet not harbored on too highly.

Yes, it was that kind of a day,

Just another day in the Wheel of the Year.

But you appeared, stealth and sudden,

Like a dangerous cat ever so silent, so sure,

Standing beside me and I did not see;

Did not sense, the hushed announcement,

Of your presence, sending elation through

My being - delighted that you really arrived.

But it was the kind of day -
That faded into the seams of another;
Another waking moment, the day
That leaves its imprints in the night,
In my dreams, another night in my arms,
In my dreams, away from the reality.

And I've spoken to you a million times,
Spoken about never-ending subjects;
Spoken by the very same soft lips,
That I have tasted many times in dreams;
And I've lain in your arms a million times,
The arms I know would keep all danger at bay.

And I've made love to you a million times,
Out of Morpheus' ever-watching eyes,
Yes I have touched your bare skin in my mind;
Heard your laughter even as the sun set,
Slowly upon emptiness without your shadow,
Wishing to see your poised form -

Silently, stealthily, in your sophistication,
Slowly standing beside me once again, steering
away the aloneness, stealing your way slowly
into my dreams, like you do every night.
Sitting beside me, as we smile upon the stars
Shining back down in the surreal surroundings.

Step out of the dreams, and come to me.

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