Keeping in Touch

    Like a pale yellow speck
    fixed in the ebon sky,
    so may your dreamless head
    now hold an eternal thought of me.
    Let it flicker when my face
    is pressed at solitude's window,
    then, perhaps, convey a happy recollection
    from somewhere in your distant dearness—
    for it’s bound to dispel my joyless grey.
    And, when the moon unfolds her tresses,
    strewn with a rosary of stars,
    then let me hear you
    in the voice of a gentle vesper-bell,
    ringing fond remembrances
    through my present emptiness.