I dream as a flower,
opening in waves
as the pages of a book,
I bloom between dreams
and reality while in
sips of tea, the people
who walk past, they too,
are beings of water in the oceans of
the mind and are visitors of the earth,
stars are in the words they speak
within the the ease of the midnight hour,
the propeller seeds lift for the moon in
the eyes they held for one another,
the depth in the quiet longing
and the secrets of love lead
I, the writer, in my wish to sing, “all the
unsung is, by the sight
of the heart, sung forever”,
so then, all the things
they behold become
as they are, wondrous.