I know the way our fingers have mingled;
I know our lips can play
and our eyes can trace the cross of
interlaced limbs.
But I wonder often
if our dreams, too
can ever weave just as so,
like branches of a tree
we somehow both envision.
Who knows?
But what marvelous dreams
could become if only
a twisting embrace
were our sleeping, drifting
minds.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
I know the way our fingers have mingled;
I know our lips can play
and our eyes can trace the cross of
interlaced limbs.
But I wonder often
if our dreams, too
can ever weave just as so,
like branches of a tree
we somehow both envision.
Who knows?
But what marvelous dreams
could become if only
a twisting embrace
were our sleeping, drifting
minds.
I wrote this poem while I was watching the movie Mirrormask, and ended up composing a piece for my senior music degree recital in 2009 with these lyrics.
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