I Dream An Old Lover - Jeffrey Foucault

You still come to me in dreams

This little bed can barely hold

The dark beauty of your eyes

Burn like a fire in the cold

Comfort is the only kind

Hearts like flowers bloom and fade

Against the chill that finds the bone

Is come from dust to dust in trade

Your sorrow for another coin

A phrase no lover fails to strike

The record of our briefest kiss

The shadows of our love alike

As memory and the sea are deep

Inside our blue and nameless blood

Coursing through this mortal fuse

The flower with its frailest bud

You still come to me in dreams

This little bed can barely hold

The dark beauty of your eyes

Burn like a fire in the cold