Just when I thought I had forgotten you,
you returned in a midnight dream:
Your coffee hair drank in the cotten sheets,
your saphire eyes danced upon the pillow.
Just when you thought your name was forgotten,
the chamomile drapes whispered it to Spica.
Your name was written in the jet stream,
along the everlasting ecliptic.
Just when it seemed your touch was a shadow,
the moon opened the inner door.
The pennywhistle ravens pondered river's
edge where you roiled beside me.
The door has opened, and there you are.
Your breath is September breeze forgotten.
Your hand is autumn leaf on my shoulder.
Just as the ghost is fading, silent sands return.
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