The color green with drops of dew spreading on eternally
The darker woods to meet the green over on the edge
A meadow, dandelions grow waiting to be wished upon
The insects crawl upon the earth not caring, knowing, needing
She meets him here (in thought) too often situations running wild
As in her mind he comes to her with only her upon his brain
No other girl; reality can't touch her in the meadow
His breath descends upon her close, her lips anticipate the same
This wish this kiss electrifies with new decisions made and kept
She sighs alone not knowing if his lips do taste of sweet or brine
He himself becomes translucent, wavers, bends, and slips to nothing
Only here where wishes come to be as real as flesh and bone
Have two lips met so real to her and yet so obviously not
Perhaps someday, even today, who knows the answer, no one does
But for the moment she's alone to wish in fields of dandelions.