look at the roses
there is the vase
a symbol of passion
expensive perfection
force-grown under glass
and this is your gesture
of undying love?
a weed from the ditches
plucked
as you thought of me
out on your walk
would show me far more
weeds persist
weeds push through
when the growing gets tough
your love without loyalty
isn’t
enough
if dreams were liquid we’d all be oceans
notions of fish would swim in our depths
the tides are tirelessly churning the sand
the weeds below sway in the flow
in time the ocean will swallow the land
our silvered skins flicker and shine
I feel your slick side stroke against mine
circling back I seek you again
we swim through life escaping the nets
When we were young and dreaming
we hired a boat, floated beneath the bridges
made of worn and ancient stone
we rowed stronger and further than anyone else
to be alone on the tranquil river
We pulled in and laid back beneath willows
toes touching, smiling, reading
while the afternoon drifted downstream
dazzling sparks and flashes on ripples
sunlight filtering green through the leaves
We never thought to look deeper
into the darker shadows
to the tangle of weeds beneath us
but we rowed against the current
to make our way home in the evening
We were young and we were dreaming.
The Dreaming Path 