You, my sweet cherub, invade my night’s rest
overpowering me with odors of seraphim blossoms
to send me on dreams of hue filled fields, towering wood
and distant lake. With daybreak,
you shake the quiet lake with dreams of past embrace:
Your kiss at last from sticky peach lips unwillingly sent.
I wake in ambrosial grass to see you soar,
winging white on blue sky brushed in morning de-light
from last breath of shaded night you dive into the clear pool
at my feet and ripple your reflection in the waters
of my quaking heart.

Late into the night your image appears
slowly, like Cassiopeia, to grow
in little specs of pure light
to challenge darkness and danger.
In full brightness you dance in my vision,
gliding graceful
billowing swan grey with filmy mist
entrancing me again with dreams of you,
only to wake trembling and faint
hot and wet from hand to brow
and I fear your shade’s flight
felt like death
and flesh.
I need again that sweet embrace
to lull me in the pool of that warm lake of passion.
Encircle me
then release me to that buoyant otherworld
as that last sweet kiss
fades from my lips embrace
like the death, a swan song
in sweet silence.

• sweet