Pervades and inhabits my waking dreams
Ours a set piece future of scripted scenes
My invented words filling your absent space.
Until reality awakens me : love’s imaginary trace
Is a contrived conceit of memory that gleams
One that sparkles and momentarily seems
Only to disappear… I wonder is there a place…
Once you returned there was no surprise
I knew I would recall your face in time
Yet you almost certainly will forget mine
As by then you’d hear of my empty demise.
Yet love outliving us both must recast
Lovers reconciled from our lost past.
Andrew James Whalan 