Poetry - David

For all the Davids I have known

Who have entered dancing into my head

I reach in fancy there

To touch a phantom invocation

That saturates my soul

With queried enjoined dreams

My breath is short against my face

Urged by loveliness too far to reach

Quenched by mores

Blush rises to my cheeks and lips

A brush would satisfy

Seconds, only seconds would it

Never is a word that is to loathe

Looking back throughout regrets

Only minutes old

I am drawn into his eyes

Where unrest lessness lies

Connecting with my heart

Which is as ageless as the spirit

Timeless as the gentle ocean

As young as a man untouched

Lined and weary peering out

The spark that leaps is not content

To quench, to burn all its fuel

But ever smoulders without regard

For sensibilities told thrice

Or many more times then that

Never is a word that is to loathe

Looking back throughout regrets

Only minutes old