|I dreamt of you
I heard your voice, the tolling of a bell,
sweet chiming from the past.
Wailing mournful for my company
behind a closed door
and appearing in the dimness
of a small and cluttered room.
The softness of your presence
creamy vanilla sponge
crumbling in my arms.
Suddenly chattering quick time lyrics
of beautiful nonsense
as if there had never been tears,
the door was never closed
and we had never been apart.
And I cried for you
For the loss I haven’t suffered
but for the passage of these years.
Golden curls and bright blue eyes
still there but somehow gone.
Your childhood buried
beneath the plodding feet of manhood
engrossed in future thoughts.
The voices of your children
calling for your company
behind a door you’ve yet to open,
while I remain
standing still as you go forward.
My dreams invaded
by the sweet aroma
of angel cake.
© Copyright 2011 Barnaby Aloysius (UN: barnaby3009 at Writing.Com).
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