you who populate my dreams
soften the covers
and loosen the lids.
you who pass before the night's
dimly lit corridors and
pace the floors,
polished, waxed, and flourished;
shining in the darkened corners
like a single stringed
incandescent bulb;
find the cold floors,
stripped, dulled, squared.
mopped with long tongued
cotton. mouthed under
the satin moon.
my life is measured by sunsets
dripped and brewed on
porcelain saucers,
and poured slowly into
single layered cups.
for you.
you who populate my dreams
and come in multi colored
black and white frames;
stuck back into the family album
with him and her and them.
you, born of tenor's voices
drawn and bowed,
a single sound, muted,
that fills each hallowed hall
to his brim.
and you, who colour the lines
of their horizon;
their future with your pen,
writing on their foreheads,
firm, steady, gold.
i dream against the orange sky,
the endless air they breathe,
that i could have back
you, who come and go,
and populate
my dreams.
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