most days i daydream of
traipsing past New Zealand streams
hopping from stones as the rivers
rush past beneath our feet
walking on water like deities

in my mind we play tag like children
in the streets of Venice
criss-crossing over a myriad of
bridges interwoven like fabric
threads in an awning tapestry

and i take your photograph as
you extend your index and middle
fingers in the universal sign of
everlasting peace and smirk out of
the corner of your mouth the way you do
when you know i'm looking

the sun-kissed snow would fall in drifts
in the Swiss Alps as a chill wind numbed our skin
and the mid-morning breeze played with our hair
and we sang songs that echoed
through canyons carved by Father Time
and Mother Nature's scandalous romance

or maybe we'd just stand within the Guggenheim
sheltered from the elements
our fingers interlocked as we wordlessly  
studied the museum's latest exhibition
and you'd rest your head on my shoulder
as you traced the Deathly Hallows
etched into my wrist with
your fingertips and you'd
be the first to break the silence

i wonder what the artist was thinking
when he shot this black and white image
do you think the shadow in the lower left
means something significant or is it
just a trick of the light

and we would stand
statuesque at the foot
of sepia photographs
two additional installations
of artwork