Soft insinuations play
within this vacuous heart.
It starts as the spark
that memory allows to smolder.
A siren’s call within my head
displaces dread and heartache.
Here within these gates,
amongst the marble pillars;
stones and obelisks
to mark each valiant soul,
and I come to stand before her.
Sunset near breaking, taking its time
to shine upon this cold place.
Her face, behind closed eyes,
tender touches of hands so soft,
serenity’s surrogate reminding me
time and again. Calling
in telepathic tones, my name in her voice,
her name in my ear. Laments of love
return in silent whispers, Hand reaching,
beseeching the spirits to rest and allow
me the same. And still I hear my name.
Whispers of love never die!
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
dVerse Tuesday Poetics – THE SOUNDS OF LOVE