119th dream

Sometimes this global village seems,
as large as a world, as history strewn
across pages and oceans.

Somedays, I stand upon this island
and gaze upon the flowing stars between;
distances curve upon thought.

If I could, my bed would shelter you;
my arms surround until, full of your scent,
we create a cradle of impossibles.

And if it pass and, should, the stars
align impossibles and fantasies
what moment's song or symphony?

We play and, in the pause between the bars,
align and find discordant harmonies
embellishments upon the day.

A dream of you. A moment to renew
each wish, desire to form the firmament,
until the night, upon us, stills.

Maybe some blossom may fall, a strand
of cassia, fragile and unforseen,
a weave of that we sought.

Tonight we speak, again, of dreams -
dragons and flights of fancy, the moon
a mirror of devotions.