Imaginary pillow talk.
Do you talk to me when I'm not there?
I picture your mood.
The weight of your day washing over your face.

These trees are changing colors.
The sea is moody and unforgiving.
This constant stream of thumping.
In its strong persistence.

Imagine ten years from now.
The trees still change, the sea still stings
And the pillow talk still whispers,
Silently.

But everything's changed, and you never would have guessed.
Our imaginary dreams are only second best.