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Speaking Of Dreams
Do you remember the warmth of our light?
How vapours rose between our bodies
as the ocean separated from the sky?
Afraid we’d be lost
in a sea of strange faces,
hostile races,
unfamiliar places,
Your first breath without,
freed an eagle’s feather,
calling owl for a softly down,
so the drifting
wouldn't seem so far apart.
I learnt to weave
sinew into every breath I took
webbing
and shaping it into a willow’s teardrop
so it could fall,
become a deep lake where winds
would sweep the whispering reeds,
between dreams that would hollow
in the grayness.
And I could feel the flutter
of your fingers pressing
furrows
between the ridges
of my spine.
Those empty little depressions
made me search
for your eyes in every stranger.
18/06/2012
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