Haunting

Here on the lonely chair I sit and wait For the little droplet of nectar that’s slowly forming Inside the warm womb of the dahlia The gradual coming down of night and her mystic attendants I relish with a warm cup of coffee, I sip at The bliss of being alone, when nobody’s around Is that a shooting star? Has it gone right past my head? I ask you, whose long absence I have grown used to ‘Cause light years ago we used to sit together Little dew drops spluttering upon my head A night bird screeches past, and in an instant I find you, once again in my arms, your dead eyes still glaring.