I dream of you
when I close my eyes
and run through the golden fields
naked of all fear
and covered in the sunlight
of whom I hold most dear
taking in the yield
of passion's highs
as I rush to you.

I dream of you
when I open my eyes
and walk through the grey streets
veiled in mundane dismay
and covered in the soot
of machination gone astray
from the golden wheat
of desire's lies
as I stride to you.

I dream of you
endlessly.

And I dream
that you dream
of me
even fleetingly.