The sunlight through the window frame,
Casting spells writes in shadows
Drawing religious symbols on your naked skin,
As you lay in a reverie upon my bed.
You are real, I know it. For I still feel the wound
Of the raw impression, you have drawn in scarlet upon my soul.
Yet you lay there as innocent as the morning
Leaving barely your outline upon the sheet.
And, I fear that if you wake you will get up and walk away.
As fleeting as a breath of morning air.
That life will continue as before almost as if you were never there.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.