in places
held to in between
the twilight
and the deep
there’s a dream I have
and you
are mine in slumber
where pages turn
much slower
snowflakes swirl about your eyes
even now
I taste the sweet
that is your kiss
of violins I never heard
your fingers stir to wonder
and for one endless moment
we are one
wrapped within this fragile night
secrets whispered softly
of where I was
and when you came to me
long before
the sunrise bleeds
and I am pulled to living
I hold you near
and pray the night
be long
in between
23 Friday Mar 2012
Posted in Poetry
tornadoday 
Very moving… absence and longing? A waking dream as well as a sleeping dream? That is what this poem means to me.
I am fairly certain that a writer’s life is filled with longing – the longing to return to ourselves – to find our beginning. And, absolutely, there is the dream and the one we dream of. I suspect reality sleeps somewhere between. 🙂 Thank you so much!
enjoyed this, captured well
You are spoiling me………. Thank you!
enjoying