She Whispers Inside My Head

I loved her once, then she found another.  
But, in my dreams she was untrue.  
Each night she slipped into my bed  
granting the fantasies I drew.  
 
The touch of her lips stayed fresh and full.  
Her eyes were flashes of light.
Her warmth and smell lived on
as sweet images of lost delights.  
 
It’s twenty years past her death tonight.  
She still slips into my bed.  
In the midst of passionate love with another,
she whispers inside my head.