Ta gra agam ort
behind the closed shades of my eyes-
the fluttering sails of my half masted lids
there is no distance between your breath
and mine
there, in that place of memories
and half dreamt dreams
I still hear the lullaby of your words
smell the oleander pollen of your skin
and get lost in the melancholy blue
of your eyes
we are safe here my sister, my friend
to continue to love one another's songs
without the boney finger of death
pointing the way to the ferryman's boat
let eternity wait one more moment
one more dream-
before widening the space
between our souls
so I may say-
Ta gra agam ort
one last time...
before your lullaby ends

Joyce 









15 old applause
