Fix me a dream where we are,
I know you can. Just one dream
where we are, nothing more.

I'm coming empty handed, how
can we fill that space?
That space that is unopened door,
unread book, uncalled name;
and how can we call it?
Bubble,
flight,
fall,
empty glass,
or even sea, or a name
that cannot be pronounced.

Fix it, while I stand outside,
gathering the flowers
that will die
in your hands

so I don't come
empty handed after all.