I forgot to ask you,
Are You A Dream?
And since I’ve not learned
how not to want you
I’ve had to learn, by waiting,
how to wait.

I cling to expectancy.

Listen to my story when I hold you.
It will be whispered – a world
so full of detail, all of it so frail,
all of it for you.

And never lose the words
we make up. Write them
on your belly and let me read them
with my tongue and teeth.

And before we sleep
listen, in moonlight and breeze,
to the apples falling from the tree
outside our room,

when we have a room.

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