My nights are filled with thoughts of love —
         — love above the mountains
         — love beneath the sea
         — love beyond the stars

But, by morning, every dream has fled —
         — fled into the sighs of an enchanted dove
         — fled into the shadows that a cloud had left behind
         — fled into the evanescent fragrances of the mist

One day I had visited your garden.
My nights were like roses along the path.
Their blossoms held dreams that had escaped.
Each petal retrieved a faraway thought.

If only you could come to the gate.
I would offer my bountiful love to you.
I would never need to dream again.
If only I could see you smile one more time.

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @wsmith1989