I.

I try to conjure your touch
in the stillness of sleep
as hours of yearning finally -
only -
grant a mere representation,
and touch as real as vapor.
And my heart fractures
at the drawbacks of mere dreaming
as it longingly searches the bedroom floor
for the footprints of a man who has never been in it.

II.

Your love fills me until I'm teeming with light,
bubbling to the surface in excitement.

And my heart is full of the roses you planted there,
blossoming and warm.