A Home for Our Dreams

I can see your invisible tears my love

And the umbras beneath your eyes

I am not blind to imperfection

Your pupils that have seen so much hurt

The sockets that have bled tears

And softened her bee-honey tone

Your portals that wrestled fate

And the pain that grew like weeds in your mind

Suckling your arable sanity

Your lovers that knew your sheets

But not your affable nicknames

The men who paled your autumn eyes

And perhaps even impaled the nadirs of your heart


Yet I’m not one who will come and go

I’m like a tractor on a field, without a plough

That will wait patiently

Holding the very earth that you belong

Without as to turnover the top soil

I will wait till your soil matures

To a state of needing each other

To that elusive place of being the soul’s keeper

I will hold you till a million dawns pass

I will make love to you like the high tide

And hold you like the sleeping sea

I will color your world with spring

And perhaps even harvest a heartbeat one summer

When we stare at the beauty of the rising sun

Through the crevices of a rustic cot


I am a man for all seasons

One who will heal your anguish

For I still see the golden treacle in your eyes

And the color of your smile

And, you and I, my love, are two wanderers

Who strolled in to each other’s lives

Where black and white mix so well

Like the notes of a piano that will play a rendition of Vivaldi’s four seasons

A love that will flourish even in passage and change

And will still bear what is sacred 

A love that is washed with need

And embellished with the nonsensical 

Where we will hold our hands

And walk towards the same horizon

Where you and I will dwindle into space

And disappear as one paltry blip

An unsubstantiated place only you and I will ever know

A place that seems a lot like

A home for our dreams

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