There are those times,
When the day's insistent energy
Has departed, and the mind refuses
To ponder further labors,
And sinks silent into the half-realm of fantasy.
This is when I need you.
Recollection wakens, and with it the ancient ardor,
Bolder indeed than the truth or the memory
Which yet grows paler under each new sun,
But which shall remain,
Like a plaintive woodwind strain,
Floating through the haunted bowers of my thoughts:
You, the only one I had ever loved,
You, who had long ago deserted me,
Have you forgotten?
I see you sometimes in my dreams,
And I wish...
That I could reach you through these,
Entice you as you sleep
With my words,
With my fingers,
My lips,
Oh, to make you blush and sweat,
Turn restlessly,
Cry out my name in your lover's ear,
Each night until
You are driven to seek me out,
To call me,
Implore me to forgive you,
And you know that I would
To regain what was lost,
What is forever lost to me.
Oh winter winds, take up my song.
Persephone, my dearest one,
Now hear the solitary swan of Hades call.
George Chadderdon © 1994