Life ended when I dreamt you.
Is it wrong to dream?
It was an idea, a fanciful dream. I packed nothing and left everything. The plantations were green, not brown. A prevailing wind filtered out the sounds of humanity’s pickers but the life I had wished for never existed. I returned home deflated. My mum smiled and offered me a coffee.
We’re meeting in landscapes Joined at the soul Waiting nightly for sleep To roam beautiful dreams
Francesca breezed amongst the flowers like a butterfly on the wing, light and carefree. Dressed for the summer even though it was cool, her silk blouse tousled in synchronicity to her long, blonde hair, her smile radiant. I could’ve watched her all day. Looking longingly from my window, I did.
And though the world be silhouette, the definition of thy lines holds more power than any vibrant memory. In each stroke I remember, each molecule of ink I feel. This is no random symmetry, no desperate thought reformed, but all I was and am and wish. Brush strokes on a canvas to you and she […]
“When choosing a car, one chooses another’s created dream.” “When choosing a book, one creates one’s own dreams.”