In the slow-dawning day

In the slow-dawning day

In the slow-dawning day
       I think of you lying there
in your dream-fast sleep
       I think of your hair spread
across the pillow
       the rise and fall of your breast
the innocence of your limbs
       that languish in rest
I think of love and the fortune
       it brings to our lives
the tender give and take
       the strokes of affection
in the words exchanged
       the muscles that we engage
to smile and visually
       embrace each other

A poem needs so little
       to grow on the page
or a virtual poem held
       in the mind and perhaps
forgotten in an instant
       but vital nevertheless
in that split second of existence

Are roses and rocks and stone
       the only reality ? I think not
In the darkness
       the mind has mountains
we stagger around
       arms outstretched
anxious not to stumble
       we cling to each other
whisper words of comfort
       reach for the nearest
available light
       that will bring us
back to our bodies
       back to ourselves

In the slow-dawning day
       a shadowless moon
seen through my window
       and countless homes
shrouded in darkness
       shrouded in dreams
Life that teems with life
       currently at rest
virtual life about
       to be called into action
and all in the name of love
       survival of the species
Listen and you may hear
       the dim-coned bells
filling the mid-winter air
       with the transparencies
of sound – make no mistake
       : time and love
go hand in glove
       are partners
and are of the essence
       and are inseparable

John Lyons


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