Last night as I went more or less
to bed, it was like I could see
the approaching dreams. And they'd all
be of you.
But you never
showed up.
I woke in the morning, and kissed
your head and you stirred in your sleep:
you were smiling.
You made a small sound, like a pigeon's coo,
and stretched yourself lazy as luxury.
You opened your eyes - I thought,
guiltily.
I asked you your dream. You smiled
"It was you."
But it wasn't
me.
Every night some guy who looks
just like me, so you claim
has you fully, completely fooled
while I sleep and dream of a long
day's work, where nothing makes sense
and the day never ends
and you never show up
'til I wake
with you.
2 comments:
Beautiful.
:-D Thank you!
I have this problem sometimes of not quite being able to tell whether a poem is beautiful or just stupid.
In this case: sorted.
Post a Comment