by Robin Cravey

Awake when crickets trill the midnight yard,

my mind is on my love, who lies asleep.

And all the years we shared—some soft, some hard—

lie dreaming in the company we keep.

That easy anguished ardor we once made,

to tune us to each other, long since fell

into domestic rhythms, and to fade

like bedtime stories we forgot to tell.

I lost my hope then, lost my urgent will

to light her heart with admiration’s fire.

Still friendship held us close and true, until

this night when hope awoke, and roused desire.

She’s here— sweet joy!  I haven’t lost my chance

to give her all my life in fond romance.