and when he dreams the dream she dreams
folded tight like an origami butterfly
so small she slips it into her pocket
to carry with her safe from interpretation
he falls like alice into the well of her eyes
then tumbles into her troubled longing
to transform the wrath of the world
which hides within us all into love
yet her dream he dreams is only his
dream as much as she allows him to dream
he sees only so far past the edge of the cloud
of his knowing lost in wisps of her words
and when he wakes her dream trails lazily
like pockets of fog between broken trees
(September 2012)
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