There are times when I remember you
in a half-glance at the late-August sky,
in a daydream gracing the mysteries of the midnight,
when half-thoughts float like water lilies,
delicate and disguised under soft, yellow moonlight;
when leaves of aspens rustle cautiously
and purple cotton clouds blanket pinpricks of milky stars;
I remember guarded abysmal portals
and sense the coming dawn
in the essential goodness of you
and then, slowly, the despair;
I remember you now in the blistering solitude of midnight
as the moon desiccates my hairless flesh and the leafless trees stand still;
Forever my muse, a silent siren call, elusive and persistent
my chameleon in white robes,
talking of the peace that passeth all understanding,
and I remember again why you touched me
and how it was I understood

Photo Credit: 3whiteroses on Flickr