Another Daydream of You

Now awake, you are no longer a dream,

Yet in fleeting moments of lost concentration I see your face,

Then the submarine smells of oil and sweat are replaced by the fragrance of you,

I raise my hand to touch your face only to find I am waving to one of the men,

In embarrassment I say, "Good morning", then turn away confused,

Another daydream of you.