Dreaming of You | Poetry

Late night strolls down vacant hallways

devoid of any ambiance

beyond the rush of giggled language

and a warmth that emanates only from us in this space.

Your back arched

like the sweet swell of the first bridge

ever built over the chaotic, effervescent, flow of water.

An impossibility realized.

Fingers, idly connecting,

interwoven in a shy reserve of newness

as eyes twinkle with galaxies of moments

whispering of stars breaking open.

A cascade of words tumbling unturned,

unreserved,

yet to be polished by thoughts

as they surrender into a release

uncontrolled by the spectrum time

or latitude or perceptible meaning.

What are these moments,

so swelled in an interlocking tension,

that move on tidal waves with apprehension and enticement?

What leads me to dream of you during the day?