Accustomed To Her Face Poem by George Krokos

Out of the dark I see a face
one of beautiful and sincere complex
I wish I knew when that face would come
and guide me to a better place.
This face, I seem to know from somewhere
It still exists, not only as a figment of my imagination,
but rather, one in a desperate situation for me.
That face whose is it? but someone's
Those eyes, what do they see? but a story
Her mouth and lips, what could they do?
but speak and smile to me.
That expression, whose is it? but mine to see;
I try and understand the message conveyed.
Has it ever occurred to anyone that it might be the one for me?
In a world of fantasy I deem she's mine,
but who else could she belong to?
I find it hard to realise the position
of what I have witnessed has put me in.
Who would possibly keep her away from me?
but someone like myself, I'm sure she knows.
It is the only answer I can offer.
Then I may have a twin in the world;
perhaps my one and only adversary
in my love dream yet to come true.
The face has gone back into the gloom
Her face has gone...............................

Why did she appear as if with news?
Back into the past I think for clues....
Not just to haunt or torment me it seems
but to remind me that she exists in reality.
Not only just as someone out of my dreams
making the hope of finding her an actuality.
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Note: A very early poem written over 35 years ago