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Poem

Why should I dream?
Of a time locked in the breeze
The mesmerizing violence of your touch
A tempest bated in anticipation
You, a delicate carnation, 
Withering in my hand
In the torrents of our ancient dance

Now you stand in front of me
Like a sandstorm in my face
This maelstrom washed memory

Tell me why should I dream?
Of your moans in the moons gleam
And our highs in the firelight
That ushered your flight oh firefly
And your goodbyes that tinged the night
Those lachrymal ancient nights

Now you stand in front of me
The firefly of my dreams
On these tear-soaked dusty streets

Oh, these dusty streets
Where my dreams of you never ceased
Like the steps we lost in the dust
And you leaving, like a sudden gust
On that windy November day
That rain-soaked memory, dust to clay

And now you stand in front of me
I wonder, where did your firelight lead?
You firefly of my dreams

Now you stand in front of me
Ready to awake my dreams
On these dust-filled streets
With November stolen kisses
Igniting memories committed to dust
On these streets that we called home

Now you stand in front of me
What happened to my dreams?

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