He comes to her every night
In her dreams as a thought.
He visits her at midnight,
He is always on the dot.
He greets her with the embrace,
His arms are strong and gentle.
She tries to recognize his face
To touch it - so ethereal…
She hardly sees the night hero.
He is invisible but felt,
He leaves his odor on her pillow,
Her bedroom is the love belt.
The night visit is about to end.
She can’t reconcile herself to this:
“Who are you: a stranger or a friend?
Come tomorrow, I’ll long for your kiss...”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.