Remembering the Hallowed Ones

​Love Song for the Long Gone
 
Most nights the dearly departed
reincarnate from my dreams and heart
they float, ceilinged-frescoes as I blink away
a nightmare, sigh, and wait for the break of day.
 
When I wrench awake, heart pounding in my ears
serene and calm they hover above my fears.
For years they’ve watched me sleep
remembering, I supposed, what it is to weep.

Those vivid ones reduced to negative’s black and white
grainy gray and visible only past midnight
a varied collection of tessellated bones
visitors from the hinted mysterious home.
 
As the minutes pass my eyes adjust
and my sweet apparitions disappear like dust
departing this world all over again, as they must.