Canticles of the Lost

     -L-

Night Breeze
Stirs.
Dying notes
lost to wind
swallowed by the dark.     

    - LI -

Waking before first hint of light.
Tranquil, unbroken still.
Cherished peace
before the world rises.

     - LIII -

Sleep once fast
dreampt of souls counterpart.
Summer nightmare night:
flesh and bone
no more than illusion.

      -LV-

Eyes once so haunting,
now memories ghost,
gently recall of touch
turned gratingly sour.

Dulsatory , languid eves
become the night, bitter now.
Alone. Final solitude.
Will anything be missed ?

   - LVI-

Clarity of summers sky
becokning , pure.
Suns warmth but a gift
to keep safe,
remembering well
come winter.

      -LVII-

Months and season,
pass empty by.
Parted as the spring.

     - LVIII-

Isolation pleasant.
Night quiet.
A restful blam.

       -LVIV-

Bed so emptied this night
of contact, of flesh.
No more reaching out.
Alone. She was but a dream.

       -LVX-

Sigh, soul deep
awaking the sleeper,
plunged into half dream,
reaching for pillow,
holding it close.
Her scent still infused
on the wanton linen.

    -  LVXI -
  

Hand so graceful, reaching,
tracing unseen liguid want
so very gentle,
her flesh art alone,
the catch of breath,
my smile. Night,
candle light, the widows open
welcoming the cool.

        -LVXII-

Skin : hot silk to the touch.
Taste, brine sweet, clean.
She reaches out in sleep,
returning then to dream,
widow on St. Thomas open,
sea breezes turned bitter.

         -LVXIII-

There is no comfort.
Mere illusion:
Soul is restless.

        -LVXIV-

Sailboats gone to mists.
Fogbank swallows whole
the mangrove swamps.
With the sun comes
visibility, and warmth.
They will soon return.

      -LVXV-

Night deep, with slightest hint,
seasons in the tropics changing.
Trees barer now.
Fall, without chill of wind.