Memories of a Stardust Lily

Sometimes

I miss the moment

          with the subtle weight of her head resting

          in my lap,

                    with her rivers of spun gold running

                    through my fingers,

                              with her twilight sighs crashing

                              against my thigh.



Sometimes

I lose myself in the moment,

          with her dreams floating

          in the palms of my hands,

                    with constellations flickering

                    her stardust-lily-skin,

                              with the gentle rise and fall

                              of her tide in my harbor.



Sometimes

          I find that moment

                    is more myself

                              than I am.