dreams …




simple dreams of us, not of riches, gaudy and plush,



dreams of the exquisite tingle of our lips brushing – of being swept away, imbibing that intoxicating rush –

dreams of soaking up our shared copper sun,
your silky hair bathing my face,



through whispering rivulets of streams, our haven, our secret place –

dreams of souls knit together, of yours, and of mine,



extricated from the numbness of this plastic pantomime –

dreams afloat on streams, on the ripples of our murmuring desire,
alive, inflamed,



forged in our cauldron of love, sensuous, fiery, never tamed –

simple dreams …