In the Wake by Maria Fokas
Your hand was not mine to hold, nor my lips, yours to kiss –
But in that world, I held your hand, and you kissed my lips.
Through a dark current; you drew in a path;
An epiphany soared within a gush of promises.
And before me, a wraithlike image distracts my wake.
Unbidden streams of clauses – lacing bare-scented gestures.
I render the smile in your eyes, the accent in your voice,
And everything you claimed that was mine.
That path; deep-seated, between the distance of land and sea;
How unfortunate that temporal beings must love within limits.
Yes; you were there, in the stroke of a dream.
A salient motif; whispers of love – and I relish to recall.
© Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved
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