Dreams

Your eyes, eyes locked deep, bluest of blues
Brighter than I could ever dream
caught mine, here now, this living
perhaps I’m moth
mesmerised in that mundane moment
of rat race robotic-ness, I colour it
as rainbows fall, unsheep-like as I watch
them above on hills that look down and beckon me
between beeps and do you haves
your eyes, eyes locked deep and world’s rotations
slowed like feathers gentle fall on wind’s sigh
your face morphed in, paused this side
of your veil, that muslin cloth so strong
it keeps you firmly there,
yet your face on his,
the briefest of blinks
seemed like a whole life passed. I held you
between apples and batteries
and have a nice day, my eyes
your blue and I hear
to whom do you do
that look,
this for.
somethings never change
even in death
I can you hear you roll your eyes
And I laugh,
to live bro,
write my dreams
swim naked in moon light.

editors note:

A moth in mourning, sweet recall, hole in heart. (Hear Polly read this poem on our podcast, “Inside the Eye!“) – mh clay

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