I love when I awake from the sweet floss of dreams
And I was with you again:
Before the wars,
After the wars,
And through the wars.
I never lost you in the morning mist,
Even afraid I remembered you
And looked your way.
Sweet reminicense, fragrance, and shy smile,
There were times when I was happy,
Times when I believed
As now I cling in waking,
To a whisp of memory,
You, nudging me awake,
Not of this world,
But of this world,
This world sacred in shape.
I regret only that I did not recognise you then
As I remember sweet loss,
And the finding,
Again, and again, and again.
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