A poem #36 – It seems his dreams were true

I seek you out in my dreams each night,
my one true love, my vision, my sight.
Twilight soft against your delicate skin,
though my longing touch, too rough and wandering.

Corridor after corridor, a labyrinth of mind,
following your footsteps, that I might again see your eyes.
Each night I dream, but I am back at the start,
holding your hand, as you are holding my heart.

But when I awake,
it always seems to be,
that you’ve crept out from my dreams,
and into bed beside me.

JP Collins


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