Golden

In the golden hours of your dreaming,
When all the world is warm and true,
Whose hand is in your golden hand?
Who crests the edge of night with you?
I wish I were a gentler soul
So I might meet you where you stand,
Or be at least the place you walk–
I wish I were that silver land.
But I am not that paragon,
No unspoiled ivory tower I,
I cannot join you where you go
Wild boy, true love of mine.

[9/22/2015]

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3 thoughts on “Golden

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