poems,  poetry

A 30 Second Dream

in the dead blue night
the solid hard still cold
the steps are small
darting and weaving
for sure footing
to find the journey end

feet entwined
reaching for
familiar and exquisite
i find her

her tear soaked
her warm chest
fumbled hands
know the skin
that has never touched his

it is calm
and still he cries
not hearing her voice
but feeling her words

in the still warm comfort.

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