work or dream

I have things to do. Work is calling loudly but I am not listening.
I’d rather listen to my day dreams. I’d rather remember the stroke
of your hand on my back. I’d rather remember the soft sound of your
voice in my ear. I’d rather remember leaning upon your shoulder. I’d
rather remember dancing passionately with complete abandon. I’d rather
remember being carried upon your shoulders and surrendering to your
support. I’d rather remember making love in our sweet temple.

I touch the keyboard and my fingertips become alive. Even touching
the plastic is an awakening. The sun touches my shoulders from this east
window and it is the most gentle warm caress. I listen and hear the sound
of cars driving by, the sound of hammer hitting nail, the hum of electronics.
I listen more carefully and hear a squirrel chatter, my dog bark, but no
other human breath, no other human voice. I want to hear your breath again,
I want to feel its wind upon my neck. I want to feel your heart pounding under
my finger tips.

I suppose I should get to work now,