I have a prayer that sometimes in your dreams

Caressed by a warm and gentle air

Laden with the scent of flowers

Dreaming that you dream

You conjure up a phantom lover

And he

Noble as an Elf-Lord

Is there at your command

To pleasure you in every subtle way

That you have long desired

You welcome a touch

Teasing yet tender

That knows nothing of haste

A kiss that searches out your soul

And drinking

Does by some strange magic

Fill it with joy

And almost as a second self

You take him unto/into where

The warm and central essence of your being

Absorbs him cell by cell

Limb to limb

Body to body

Fusing – Merging – Coupling

Crescendo in a symphony of life

Of towering seas – Of crashing surf

Of tidal waves – Of thunderstorms

Of lightning rending Heaven itself

And earthquakes shake the planet to its core

And then the calm…

Like the sound of a lone oboe

Soft yet haunting

And the phantom fades

Dissolving into mist

Leaving only the memory image

Of a loving face that cares

But in my dream of your dreaming

There is ever the forlorn hope

That the face you see is mine.

H. St.Vincent Beechey 1988