by Ajmer Rode
If you have forgotten your dream
I saw it with my own eyes.
The figure that stood before you
with a bouquet of fresh roses was
The arm that wrapped round your
waist tightly was not mine, nor the fingers
that stroked your hair.
The umbrella that suddenly escaped from
your hand and disappeared in the sky
leaving you free
in the rain
to walk, laugh, run and slip
before you awake.
Last updated December 10, 2013