Last Night

last night I wanted to write you a poem,
but my hands lingered by my side.

Last Night I wanted to write you a love poem,
but my hands were just too tired to pick up a pen.

Last Night I Wanted to write you a beautiful love poem,
To help remind you that you once loved me.

To paint you a picture with words of
flowers and roses, loneliness and greed,
the aggregates of sex and the drifting of lust
in the breeze.

Dried dandelions, catch and find freedom
in the afternoon breeze.

Leaves flicker and sparkle in the trees.

The Dragon Fly on a mission watches
you escape into the silky cool depths of
the lonely blue lake.

Little brown birds take off
From their branches towards
The light of the beautiful, blinding sunset.

Last Night I Wanted To write you a beautiful love poem,
but I died in my dreams and now I can't wake up.

Last night I dreamed you were dancing in my arms,
and lying in my bed so close to me, my hands running
through your long, black hair, caressing
the side of your face - oh Sara - and wiping away a tear
as my eyes stare deep into your soul, my mind,
falling in love with you.

Last Night I Wanted To Write you a love poem,
but I sounded stupid, petty and dumb.

So I curled up instead in your blanket of loneliness,
to dream for awhile.

(c) June, 2000, Steven H. Lee