There was this dream I formed, long ago,

An empty reflection of what, I did not know,

I never knew of its presence,

Was never sure of its existence,

'til the sight of you, brought it home.

So now I wonder. Will I ever know,

What I've been missing?

The simple, tasty pleasure,

Of you and I kissing.

Of passions held tightly,

Yielding only to your charms,

Or the calm, silent solace,

Of lying in your arms.

One slippery, silent echo,

Of the empty in my heart,

One slippery, silent echo,

Of the streaming tears that start,

Just one slippery, silent echo,

One slippery, silent echo away.

Though deeply hidden once,

The dreams are back,

Needing only encouragement

To get them on track,

Like an undernourished newborn,

They lay there, delicate and light,

'til the slightest whisper from you,

gave them life.

So now will I know,

What my life's been missing?

Or will this dream die a

Piteous thing?

Stranded here in deepening light,

Once again safer

In the cushion of night.
from Mon Amor dans le Vers
(c) 2001 c a gallagher