the dream came again last night. silence begging sound
like hunger or thirst begs ambrosia in cup or bowl or mug.
and music swam in like a barefoot Mexican dancer, bound
to the light like the smoke of fires faded as shadows hug
the corners of the stonework spires that pierce the skies
with hard intentions to a softened grace, placed aloft
on legs of granite and marble and brick. the echo dies
and I am left to ponder another feline dancing, soft
and silent. a smile of curious wonder woven in jaws
that already hold me in their web of kiss and word,
culled from the senses sent soaring by your lavender claws
as they approach, the cool stone by warm feet obscured.
and, as always, you charm the night like an eager lover
to your bidding, your laugh catching on the stars that hover.


copyright William F. DeVault