my love returns to me in dreams disguised
perhaps as friends we meet again and take
our fill of each otherâs company. yet
never is such a brief conceit enough
to sate the thirst for more that swells inside
and threatens this feeble facade to shake,
as unwanted lines loosâd from a couplet
there tears the mask of friend we dreamt in bluff,
and there we wake bereft of our belovâd
rent our revels lay empty arms and sighs
wishing for false that just away we shovâd,
how can i curse loveâs truth and yearn for lies?
in a dreaming lie or a truthful theme
my belovâd is loveâs truth in wake and dream.