For Loralee
J. Andrew Hobdy
She dances upon my eyelids
as I close them for slumber.
I can feel her beside me
like a phantom itch.
Phantom Limb written by J. Andrew Hobdy in autumn of 1996
Her voice lingering on my ear
as the echo of a tympani in an empty room
As a yell on the barren plain.
Her love is the spring
renewing all life,
bringing rain to my dry and thirsty soul.
peace
She is the lighthouse amid the tempest
filling the black void with a brilliant light
her love is as constant as the tide
often low and ebbing
lying in wait
but sometimes raging.
I long for that rage.
as the echo of a tympani in an empty room
As a yell on the barren plain.
Her love is the spring
renewing all life,
bringing rain to my dry and thirsty soul.
peace
She is the lighthouse amid the tempest
filling the black void with a brilliant light
her love is as constant as the tide
often low and ebbing
lying in wait
but sometimes raging.
I long for that rage.