i write this poem because
i dream tender dreams:
warm water and you in my arms, sleeping
as we drift
my hair in dark tendrils around our shoulders
the sound of gentle falls
somewhere else,
somewhere distant.
beneath my dangling legs
as i silently paddle us to shore
i see no fish or waterweed
but toys lost to the sandy sea floor and games abandoned,
things you once loved.
here you are in my arms, face placid
and i wonder what you would say
if you knew i dream these dreams
if you knew i write these poems
for you.