By Charles Robert Lindholm
I wait for her each morning
in the backside of the night
in the final hours of darkness
just before, the dawn’s first light
I long for her arrival
so in darkness I can see
and I listen like a lover
to her whispered words for me
she comes and she surrounds me
and the thrill, it still astounds me
she softly sighs and tells me
things I need to hear
she wraps herself around me
and gently holds me near
and in those tender moments
the ecstasy is real
and I write so I’ll remember
the way she makes me feel
I wait for her each morning
in the backside of the night
with a lover’s lust that’s burning
just before, the dawn’s first light
and though she’ll never, belong to me
you know each day, I long to be
alone again,
with my, Calliope
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