A Vague Dream

How strange is the chase

for dreams that don't have a visage

Nor a definition

A vague hill...fluid, unbounded

A valley of unidentified flowers..

yellow and white

a soul, soul-mate-like

unnamed, without a face

but well-defined fingers

that slide behind my ears

to tuck a stray strand of hair..

And time..is frozen..

ice-cold. But its pleasantly warm

under the skin of my cheeks

I see no colour

hear no sound

as I try to identify

You....

But all I am left with

is a dream

and its characteristic uncertainty

that tests my patience

bit by bit, crystal by crystal

through a narrow decade-glass

of Not Knowing

The mist above the hills

grows denser

and you walk away

leaving behind the illusion

of a smile, and the reality

of longing




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