Early Morning Mirage

Days have passed, my love,   and once again you are a fragile memory. I keep telling myself that you WERE here   and not another of my dreams,      where you are sometimes so real I can almost         feel your breath upon my neck. But this Sunday Morning Rendezvous was not a mirage. It was not some early-morning memory trick to test me.   No, this time you were real.      ...so real that I can actually sense         the lingering smell of your cigarettes            and the familiar taste of your kiss on my lips. If I close my eyes and picture you standing near me,   I can still feel the gentle pressure of your body against me      as you moved us toward the bed. My fingers remember the warmth of your skin,   instinctively knowing precisely where to touch you      and when to hold you tightly. My soul quivers again as I listen   to the echos of your sighs      whenever your pleasure peaked;   and my heart races against the fleeting memory of this moment      in a vain attempt to capture and hold you with me. Yes! I remember! THIS, I did not imagine! I could not slow your leaving   any more than I could still the sun from rising. You hurried from my future the same way    the night fled from the on-coming day. Just like some shadows seem to linger beyond their time,   I caught a fleeting hesitation.      For just a heartbeat, you wavered -         and your determination to go, flickered.   I wanted desperately to call you back to me...      to tempt you back into my arms for one more embrace...         for one more kiss.      But I did not. I helplessly watched your leaving -   bound to my fate in the same way      the trees are rooted to the ground,         and can only watch their shadows           go with the rising sun. I heard your slight confession   that you had missed me,      and I noted your reluctance         to close the door and drive away. Again, I had to restrain myself from calling you back. I didn't understand WHY,   but I knew you had to go;      I could not make it more difficult for you. Instead, I watched your mirage fade into a memory. Each morning finds the trees waiting again -   to watch their shadows being chased away -      very much the same way I wait         to catch another glimpse of a morning mirage...            hoping you will appear again               and be real enough to stay with me a while.                                     mDrink More Coffee!     Written October 16th, 2001 © on Oct 16 2001 06:41 AM PST   0 • 18 • 8