The imagined sex
Nothing but your hand..;
The mind grows vexed
And the dream can no longer stand...

I doze.

To the perfect and damaging
Lull of voices,
fleetingly near me.
Try to block them... cannot.
A figure would stand here
Gather here... a phantom;

Me in his arms.

Eyes shut and I calm.
happening around me....
a wedding reception?
A lot of grinding voices.
Friends who will never be.

A figure, flitted through memory
For a moment is real
Standing among them,
With them.

My companion.

His warm eyes meet mine
A ghost of a smile
And then he is gone.

Give me release!
I can't stand it here.
The only thing
with a sincere tone...
Is the music
Weaving her sad notes
Speaking of other's lessons
Breathing a warning.

No one listens.


©1998 Marie Strom