“Those dreams would unlimit our spaces”
Again he reads the book she gave to him,
and sees her mind within the writer’s words.
Are these the thoughts she meant for him to see:
this phrase here, this word, this idea, this tease;
a verbal dance of seven veils in hope
that what sang to her will be revealed
as he traces his hand across the page?
There’s so little of what he really knows
beyond what he brings to her intent.
Yet, his selfish desires believe she hints,
like a flirtatious jejune’s wink, towards more
than the story can provide; so he hears
the echoes of his thoughts reflected
from these simple pages she gave to him.