Libra

You came to me in a dream

under haze of curiosity and meaning.

You were dressed all in white,

which I agree was peculiar.

Fear and mourning stabbed at my weak heart,

anxiety turns.

And then the train hits, I see your eyes

those distant, forgotten eyes

which now are flushed with warmth and rapture,

the knife exits.

This town is ours,

hand in hand we walk its streets

telling stories of our own lives,

the misfortunes of my own town.

I am so in love.

My voice brings your eyes to tears, as it once did.

As the dew-dropped grass sit beneath us

we tell myths of the stars and constellations,

you speak of paintings and children and country music.

I listen.

You kiss me, gently.

It is the first kiss with meaning that anyone has ever

experienced.

Ultimately,

only you, me and of course the stars.

a sad blue moon flickers in the endless sky

calling.

It calls you home, back to your own life.

To your true Silver Spring.

Fear of morning sneaks.

Cold hands squeeze one last time

there is no kiss.

You came to me in a dream.

If you ever choose to wander again I will be there in that dewy grass

under the stars and moon,

both full and wanting.