The Quilt
Some times I dream you
holding my heart
and breathless
I wait to see
what you do with
its beating pulse;
I exist then only with
my anxious soul
which hopes
my heart
will return home
and bring you
too.
Sometimes
I take your kiss
since your are not here
and place it on my lips
and that is many times
enough
for the long night.
Sometimes I beat back
the lonely hour
within these heartless minutes
and my soul
rides the brocade flower quilt
mother made
knowing
each night
it is the field
where hearts
and souls play.
At the edge of my endurance
I wrap my own arms
around my torso
for my good night kiss.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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