containing legends deep within the bone,
and holding old romance in their allure
pull me in dreams of you and me alone –
Alone in white rooms, fantasized by me;
alone in orphaned gardens, saved by you;
alone in white-washed castles by the sea;
alone in meadows pale and soaked in dew.
The beauty of your life is intricate
although you may not see its rambling grace;
you’re made of candlelight and fires lit
to warm the pallid shadows on my face.
My spirit flies to you and now I’m whole,
and sweetly, gently, I embrace your soul.