Each Friday I post one of my poems.
Why is it, when I dream my fondest dreams—
That I am, as in days gone by, again
With you, and we have timeless hours to spend
In glad enjoyment of sweet company,
In happy laughter, and in conversation—
No mater where, in dreams, you seem to be,
I never taste the scent of lilac blooms,
Or smell the heady breezes after rain?
Why do I, dreaming, never see first snow
Or hear that peaceful not-quite-silence there?
Once, when I thought of these, I dreamed of you;
Yet here I dream, but only sparsely now—
In flimsiest of scenes of fantasy
Or else in frames of drabbest dingy gray.
I began turning the first pieces of this poem over in my head some time ago—when I first noticed the smells of spring, and in particular the scent of our lilac, earlier this year. I finally put it together into a more cohesive form and committed it to paper, and then to digital form, a couple of weeks ago.
I always welcome your comments, critique, suggestions, or any other feedback on this poem or any other part of my work. You can also read other poems I’ve written here on my blog; in particular, I’d like to know which poems you think are my best.
This poem is also posted on my wiki.