The Dream
Thomas Turner
I fell asleep alone last night,
thinking only of you.
I awakened at four
and found you at my side,
the warmth of your body
vibrant and perfumed
as you lay there near me
ever so quiet in the darkness.
I fell asleep slowly again,
my thoughts very pleasant –
of how we had made love
so freely, with such tenderness.
It was a dream come true.
I awakened at five
and there you remained,
your body in my arms
and the heat of your breath
gently striking my neck.
I closed my eyes solidly once more,
with your loving face,
your memorable eyes
and your sweet fragrance
leading me away along the misty paths
of temporary unconsciousness.
I awakened later – half past seven
and you were gone – a figure from heaven,
an angel from above.
You were just a dream.
I lay there sleepily
and oh how did I cry,
desiring your loving kiss,
needing your soft touch.
I pulled the covers away,
lifted myself tiredly out of bed
and stood at my window.
I stared in tears
as I could only ask you
and the Lord this question:
Why did you leave me?
Why did you die?