Sweetheart, the still is throbbing with a sensuous melody
Or is it just the night-wind sobbing in the willow-tree?
Seems I can hear an ocean crashing on a jagged coast
Or is it just the echo of something I miss the most?
Sweetheart, where is the vortex that inhales our fantasies?
What turns the sweet heart bitter, jading soft intimacies?
I hear a love-song sighing somewhere out against the dark
Or is it just the crying of a star that lost its spark?
Sweetheart, I hear the cadence of the midnight murmuring
A cello in the distance; or is it the whispering
Of summer in a garden where the blooms were lush and sweet
Before we sensed their petals cold and parched beneath our feet?
© Janet Martin