You confessed your cares for me last night,
Whilst I was soundly sleeping.
'Twas it merely in my mind's nocturnal flight,
Or was't a concession worth my keeping?

For, our dreams I often speculate
To be incarnate of night's air,
Wherein the confessions of our hearts await
To be inhaled, and by osmosis, made aware.

If this interpretation be so true,
Then our dreams have left us intertwined
As metaphysical lovers in a cerebral rendezvous,
To which, as long as she's around, we shall be confined.