Commune

It matters little if centuries past,
And passes still time, longer than that

For within me, you live, a vague imprint
Not quite you, but something close

And each night I dream of you,
Dressed in robes of gold, and a crown of yew

Under a blooming arch, I renew my vows to you
My love, dear love, we will commune

Fingers entwined, we’ll roam the earth
May days come to an end, if they surely must

From you lips, I sip, the wine of the gods
My little morsel of divine luck

I wait for the tipsiness to settle in my veins and my brood
To run through my blood, corrupt and corrode

To give birth to life, swayed and swooned
A progeny drunk on the magic of you