PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The nights are getting warmer,
Though unlike summer former,
When you yearned by me here,
Everywhere--an inferno near.

The stars still brightly shine,
Yes, luminous and fine,
But to sleep is out of reach,
No matter if Morpheus I beseech.

I'll again try closing my eyes
Envisioning cool summer skies,
Set like a marble ceiling anew,
Oceanic, in the purest of blue . . .

Such a hue hovers about me;
Its ethereal essence caresses lightly
My mind, as I lie here prostrate,
Drowsy-headed, void of weight.

'Tis eyes I spy? Gleam they do,
Singing into mine a tune so true.
Wherein I hear Falsetto's voice,
Lovely an ' Lady-like, of full-rejoice.

And then my lucid lips meet hers,
Becoming one, my journey occurs
To strange worlds I've never seen,
To human feelings I've never gleaned.

And now my room grows colder,
As I lie here alone and a little older,
Dwelling on all that this might be,
Were I only the younger man in me.

'Til then, I again my eyes close,
Asking Morpheus that I might dose
Deep, where depths aren't as they seem;
In a placid place known as summer dream.