In a stroke of genius
I fell asleep.
Colors unfolded from my eyelids
melting into a creamy dreamscape.
Times we had lived:
Floating in freshwater bliss
not letting a drop between us.
Searching for ancient treasures
in a dusty barn.
Sneaking into an empty dorm
to share spirits and souls.
We may never live like this again.
We may never love like this again.
The creamy dreamscape is hardening.
The colors a shade dull.
Perhaps the best thing to do with a masterpiece
is to paint over it.
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1 comment:
It reaches out and touches my heart, every time... that's a gift.
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