The Autumn night chilling me to my bone
But I turn to see her sleeping in the back.
“This world ain’t ordinary. When an angel
Rests in a car, I smoke away this chilly night,
And the airwaves are full of meaningless chatter.”
I put out the cigarette then roll up the window.
From the mirror hangs a small black bow.
I take it down and smile slightly. Last Christmas,
She gave me just this. What she told me remains
Carved into my being. “The words you write, the rains
Of Spring; both make nothing into something gorgeous.”
A reoccurring dream where I seek understanding
And wish we could leave our suffering behind.
Wishing that I could find a way to be your king,
My queen. The little dream serves to remind:
This beating heart of mine seeks the warmness
I find with you near. Searching for your tenderness.
Vasha'Lakar 