The Dream

Up and up to the sky’s reach,
anxious, trepidatious hearts roll.


Blue and pink cotton candy sphere.
Twilight; intimate whispers; yearning expression.
The bustle so selfish and we …
we cling to the precariousness of a sun-warmed moon;
wrong and right.


Stranger, I’m nothing but age and wear,
and you, the kiss so essential of resurrection.

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