A Dream?

A warm embrace,
eyes, so young and innocent,
skin pale and soft.

The first time,
our lips joined in silent prayer,
the sound of water flowing.

The warmth of your breast,
full and ripe fruit of love,
the taste of salt and sweetness.

I woke up with an emptiness
cold, darkness beside me,
and the lingering smell of lilac.

(C) 2005 Steve Johnston