The Sun comes up too early
Bleeding light through trees outside my window.
Dreams invaded and quickly fading,
I stir beneath the sheets.
Eyes like butterflies,
I fight a silent battle
To hold on to the night.
The wind moves west
And the trees dance.
I remember that they dance for him.
His laughter is the music.
Soft sunlight kisses my face
And I remember the fire of his touch,
Hot skin soaked in candlelight.
I have forgotten his face, his name,
All the promises we made,
But my spirit still calls to him.
It remembers what I dreamt of last night.
© 2004 LM Hutchings