My skin grows pale without your warm embrace,
My hands trace verses longing for your touch,
My lips speak soft your name without reply.
My heart knows only thoughts of your dear face,
Your garden is the scene my mind does sketch,
Where hope and memory together spun gold strings
That lift my soul on wings though far apart we be
The ghosts of kisses past along my flesh still prick
Come ease this aching with your presence sweet,
Let shadows of before play in person now,
Rekindle all that in your absence died between
Dissipate this hunger that consumes me so complete,
Restore through loving hands what Time did cloud -
Come, love, this poet's torment end, I pray, and be.
