Stretched across a desert
Of white pillowed night,
I cloak myself in blankets
Of shrill quiet.
Each inch of bed pleads for your return,
In the hint of the moon's bright light.
I savor only the memory of your touch
As my eyes search the darkness for
Your smile.
(For Manuel Alves who expired Jan...1975)
Mrs. Holmes, This poem almost made me cry, its so sad and yet its beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So very poignant, that smile in the dark, those dark eyes I shall never see again. Love, kate