Dreams

The night is made
for dreaming;
stars puncturing the sky,
the gentle rocking of
the oarless boat
drifting to the place
that knows no time

I will meet you where
the crickets dwell
on a summer’s night,
as they sing their song
to the heated moon

I will meet you on the
Tuscan hills just
as the sun dips low,
you will tell me things
of great importance
which I instantly forget
on waking

The morning is for gathering
the threads of all that is

one morning I will wake up
and remember the future

I will meet you there

© Tanya Southey
#52words52weeks