It is the waking hour of a moonless night.
I find myself lying here draped only in the air and darkness that surrounds me,
thinking of you.
Distracted from slumber by overwhelming thought,
I ponder the many with profound hesitation.
Praying for amnesia, I remember.
Defeated in struggle to forget, images in retrospect take shape in my mind’s eye.
Finding solace with the rise of the sun,
shadowed silhouettes of you cloud the hour-glass of shifting sand before me.
Betrayed by time I’m molested by pride, drowned by shame, impregnated with failure and before this thought has passed, I will have given birth to admittance.
Fostered faults, not my own.
Yet and still banished, reproached, I am missing you.
A cool breeze interrupts the processes of my thoughts and strokes the prominence of my facade.
In willful digress, I envision the softest caress, hand with palm to cheek.
I am bewitched by even softer lips, banded to a love fashioned to embrace mine.
But they are not your hands and you are not here and I,
find myself consumed by night’s waking hour, missing you.
© N.N.Williams 2012, all rights reserved.