Essence of Her Ocean

I’m not the person who walks with you through autumn leaves
In the old park near the school where children play in innocent reverie;
I’m not the man mingling souls with the lady of all his dreams,
But I am the man who desires such things.

I’m the midnight candle that burns for love
Beneath the gentle gaze of the moon,
I’m the prayer spoken upon a pillow
That will softly float into a woman’s room.

My senses will one day all disappear
Into the fragrance of her perfume,
I will be the single teardropp of water
Entering the essence of her ocean for eternity.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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