By Claire Brown Bower
Date: 29 June 2000

This Dream Again

This dream again, I blink in futile fervor,
to sleep and nightly wake myself with moan,
his whisper 'gainst my throat, exquisite murmur,
a longing of such ache I've never known.

I cannot empty out my sensual treasure,
nor sift through hushing syllables of love,
as words of heart flood forth through passion's pleasure,
and memory lingers with my mourning dove.

But who am I to harbor such emotion
for one who sails across the northern skies,
when both have cursed the depth of our devotion
and fought to shield the pain within our eyes.

While days upon my passage lie before me
disguising grief and sentimental mist
a dove with gaze of peaceful eye implores me
ache not for lips I never once have kissed.

                                           ~ Claire Brown Bower