Things Left Unspoken
To he whose wish is to
speak but can't.
Is it just my desire that
of you dancing in my dreams?
Is it just my hope that makes the tone
of your gentle voice audible,
endlessly resounding in my head?
Is it just my loneliness that makes me sense
the feel of your touch still hot upon my skin?
Is it just my wildest fantasy
that your spirit forever haunts
the awakeness of my sleepless night?
Yes, I've seen, heard, and felt you
in my presence. You are communicating.
But none of it replaces you in the here and now,
The almost real phantom reflections
of your image only frustrate
and make me long for you even more.
I beg you now, my love, to hear . . . to see
that giving rebirth to a time and place,
where physical reality and WE exist once more,
is the best of gifts possible from you to me.
Shirl A. Steward