LAST

SUMMER
 

I can only touch you now
    as I lie dreaming,
and feel your tangled hair
    twisting the night
against the wind,
    while from some
enchanted forest
    your smiles fly out
to greet me
        with those same soft sighs,
and there I am
    again lost in shadows,
a naked boy clinging to
    yesterday,
hungry once more
    for your embrace,
but caressing only emptiness
    in silence,
beside the memory of you,
    until the Dawn's relentless tide washes my dreams away,
    and I wake
once more,
    alone
...remembering.
 
 
 

Bud Evans , (c) 2000