Vagrant thoughts pass through
their dreamless minds,
indigent vagaries of consciousness
upon these, the sleepless ones,
during the nights so dark and quiet
they can hear their homeless hearts
flip on the mattress tops, or
the screeching swoosh of skin tossed
‘neath sheets, and sense the sighs
of one inhalation,
and one exhalation,
like the wind through a lost cave.
It is a call of life spent too alone
or at least too lonely.
But once they repose to recall
those times that their hearts would race
at the touch of the other,
the tender bow-draw music
of skin stroking skin, and
the echoing silver-chained harmonies
of two breathing a lullaby as comforting
as any the angels might sing,
they fall into their dreams of together.
Cold and empty are the arms
that come too soon, too cruelly, and
awaken them from this time spent
wrapped in the timeless, the embrace
of their unseen but so-real lovers.
© 2013 Joseph Hesch