Copyright © by P. R. Lowe April 27 2010
I awoke from sleep
with you hot on my breath.
Were you there or was I dreaming?
Did you leave by the window as I woke
and spoke gently my name?
The same as the wind in the top of the trees,
the same as the brook that carries the leaves,
the same as fading love grieves.
Then, you sat on the sunlight
that ebbed by the bed
pulling ‘way so slowly, out of my head
till I woke up, sat up,
and felt just your trail,
as it slipped out the window
and pass the bed’s rail.