M. W. Taylor Poems

I have walked the Valley of Dreams.
Where the wildest hope springs forth like fire,
to consume your mind and
turn dreams to ashes of obsession
...

It is warm here.
The contours of
your body
fit
...

How many hours of our lives
do we spend in waiting rooms?
On hold.
How many hours waiitng
...

The hollow seashell, which for years has stood
on dusty shelves, when held against the ear
proclaims its stormy parent and we hear
the faint murmur of the breaking flood.
...

It has been months now.
Months, and I am glad you are gone.
Yet, a part of me wishes you remained.
I am a man of halves.
...

Do you remember the night
we sat on my couch at 2am?
You read me poems about the war
that you studied back when you were at school.
...

See you under a firework
in the cold, lonely sky.
Beneath the dazzling lights
and awe that never dies.
...

It would not be enough
to simply say
'Je t'aime'
but, instead,
...

I had 600 words to describe you
and each was sweeter than the last;
your scarlet lips, your fiery hair,
the scent of rain that walks
...

I have dreamed of you so much you cease to exist.
Where your hand is the phantom of the wind,
encased in night.
...