Vagabond of My Dreams

He has fled, now a vagabond of my dreams
I have searched for him to quench this thirst
And there he is…in a corner of invisibility
Embracing the shadows of forget
His hair, a swirl of warring straight and curl
The sea of blue wrinkled cloth clinging
On his thinning body, barely a shirt
Still, he is my vagabond. A lost soul. A mere man.
A mess of hopelessness.

Then he takes a guitar, strums on my heart
Weaves a web of intricate seduction
With feather touch
His voice, pure liquid fire, trickles down
In the soundless chamber
Of my forsaken dreams
Waking buried memories of this
Ghost of a prince

And oh, those eyes!
Bottomless pools of molten,
Silken warm chocolate
Peeking through dancing diamond strands
Have somehow found home. Now drinking in
The sight of…me?
The rough, sultry current
Of gravitational tug
Crackles from me to him
A pause. Then a cry tears through the silence,
He turns to pieces, liquefies.
A name…Jenny! My sister in the heavens.