Friday, October 18, 2013

A Distant Night in May

 
 
 
it was a distant night in May
the sweet scent of orange blossoms
may have filled the warm and twinkling air
—though i cannot recall for certain
 
for i glimpse this luminous, longing vision
not by way of sightless sight
but through the yearning inward eyes
of my deepest dreaming soul
 
it is you i see there—
you, in that intimate, dimly lit chamber
the same room where you, so dearly, slept
and gave your secret thoughts to the night
 
i was with you upon that far off eve
our souls like brittle peeking blossoms
that trembled in the glittering dusk
 
—a song, a star, a dream.
 
*
 
the bedroom’s soft light still glows
like a gentle gossamer moon
somewhere in the universal dark
 
a star yet wandering the ancient heavens
silently seeking its vernal home
appearing lost amid the fixèd stars
 
yet following a fated, elliptic orbit
toward its sighing cosmic destiny
in an elegant but invisible constellation
 
—i see it, that sweet lost silver star
not by futile telescopic lens
but in my dark and dreaming heart
 
it is still aloft, adrift somewhere
in the high and sparkling vault
a secret soft-lit chamber
hidden in the beating heart
of the deep vast sea of night
 
that star still calls to me
across the years of time
and across the unlit empty spaces
that separate me from thee
and mine from thine
 
that tender place, that lovely
incandescent room
surrounded by the universal dark
where we, almost
touched
 
—a song, a star, a dream.
 
*
 
i see us still, that night
alone, us two, in springtime
on a silent and a singing dusk
 
your eyes there, lustrous
still gaze curiously into mine
your forearm, tender
still rests untouched upon your lap
 
that room, that moment
drifting still among the stars
searching for its longed-for home
 
the home, waiting, where
white curtains rustle softly
in the warm evening breeze
 
where lies a cool quiet bed
waiting to receive our weight
and a gentle glowing lamp
waiting to be made dark
 
it is, perhaps, a distant night in May
the sweet scent of orange blossoms
may fill the lush and verdant twilight air
 
this may be only known
when i, no longer lost among the stars
arrive upon my bright and silver home
and there discover
you
 
—my song, my star, my dream.
 
*
 
 
 
Steven Holland
October 17, 2013
 

No comments:

Post a Comment