Satin Sheets Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Shelley sighs like the dying wind
You are the mind that remembers touch
Your scarf of Ithaca green
Vernal longing for touch
Your garden is velvet ire

Youth never dies on your bed
Do I feed your wounded heart
Do you still read my broken heart?
I need you off in the distance
Leave the bedroom silk on

I still visit and you like it
Tangled in unrequited life
Only love reads poetry
I am no ghost
Let this poem be satin sheets