One can still day dream when out of the dream,
When that one being seems glued to your skin
like plaster on a wall, while washed gloves
remain layered on velvet hands and feet.
Yours are perfect.
I have always known, perhaps–
because you are the one who visited my dreams
first, the one that pushed me along in green fields.
I saw through you;
you smiled because you knew.
You knew the passage we would take,
the nature at stake, the vows we would break…
October 24, 2013