Source Of The Dream

In your eyes, upon your tunic,/they flicker into mine/they own them for  a moment/because they’re ageless, timeless, not blind,/ you cast glances over one shoulder/you muse on colors l sometimes see/you search for the vivid /in your pictures of you and me/a thing that reflects your sudden ire./You’re likely to pick out the lush groves/wherein we must lie down./And next morning, a laughing sound, like the peal of bells.

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