A HOLD ON MY HEART

When next is night
and late awaits
a dreamless sleep,
I toss to the turn
of tangled thoughts
and midnight memories
of what gone once was
in almost-gone days
that simply can not be.

I hold on
to the nostalgic warmth
of mysterial moons
and imaginary landscapes;
still moments
and frail flowers
that bloom
in the sunshine
of your soul.

Though we meet
only in the poetic space
between worlds,
everything draws me to you
and to the essential
stillness of your heart.

Suspended in supple shadows,
the echo of your voice
lingers in my head,
but it is the music
of your singular spirit
that has a hold
on my heart.

Without the permanence
of timeless love
and impassioned
poetry,
days pass through night,
lonely
to be alone.


© JOHN PISCATELLA