Last night, I dreamt of her
for the first time in over
five years.
Her twilight face appeared,
a face which could neither love me
nor let me go.
The face she wore while
our love slowly withered.

That face grew fainter, and
soon her sunrise face appeared:
joyous, kind, and believing.
The face I first met,
the face I will carry
to my grave.
Last night,
a dormant volcano
in Mexico erupted.

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-warm-red-hunger/