The stars whirl madly in their trackless universe;

The sun also rises; on the blue horizon

The moon –sliver or brilliant blue-white Christmas ball –

Will wax and wane on the nights

That go on without relent;

And I know, in your heart,

You think I’ve forgotten you.

Where you see me, and with whom

Is of little consequence. I have been squirreled

In the trees of poetry so long I cannot

See the ground. And the sky is of no interest to a man

Who has seen the days lap against the shore

In endless little waves of sameness

Still, you do not hear from me

And you think I’ve forgotten you.

It is not enough to write poems to the muse

Nobody knows. In our secret needful hours

We miss the reinforcement of a voice;

An embrace; a kiss that startles butterflies

My lips touched yours and

We knew how it was when Cro-Magnon

Man first tamed the fire. And yet, time

Has done its dastardly worst

And distance is the curse foisted on us

By a whimsical God.

Still, you haven’t heard from me

And you think I’ve forgotten you

But when you sleep in peace tonight

I will come to you

Dancing on the comet tail of your sweetest dream.

There is nowhere

My head would rather lay then on your breast;

No lips I miss more than yours; No heart whose throbbing

I would rather hear in the middle of the darkness

Of my own uncertain hours.

I may be many things, my love,

But forgetful isn’t one of them

And with all my heart, know this:

Never, ever, think that I’ve forgotten you

11/27/2002

Posted on 11/28/2002
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch