Dreams Of Lovers; Ode To Actor Barry Van Dyke Poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson

Though never will ye ever really touch mine tender skin, nor shall I caress thine gentle hand.
Yet it is as though we've known each other for many centuries.
And though ye know not that I exist, ye have held me in thine dreams.
We are from another time, and place of long ago, when men were men, women were ladies, and the written word was a thing of beauty.
Ye have once held me, I upon the floor at thine feet, mine head lain upon thine noble lap, mine arms about thine waist.
Ye have stroked mine hair as we sat next to a cozy fireplace.
As snow gently drifted down outside to the ground, we spoke of our life together.
Ye have awaken from thine dreams, disappointment tugging at thine heart for me.
Ye ask thyself, 'where might this lady be? Doeth she exist? Have I met her? Shall I meet her? '
This is not a question that the mind can decide, it can only be answered by thine heart, for from thine heart comes all that is love.
Alas I close mine eyes this night, and once again ye come into mine dreams.
Who is to say which world be real, for in both I feel love, and sorrow, as I sleep I pray I not wake upon yon morrow.
Take me away upon thine white steed, and we shall ride off into the sunset, our souls on love shall feed.