Pacific Nights

Running through my memories
Like a tired roll-a-decks
I come upon an unusual entry
A forgotten one
A boy I once knew
Loved then,
Love now,
Though not with the giddy passion of long ago.

Tenderness
Affected affection
It all affected me
Made me what I am today-
Running through old forgotten memories

A grandmother’s chest,
Filled with old dress up clothes
and childhood dreams,
within my own mind.

I remember nights when it rained,
And we lay, breathless in our innocence
Blushing at a kiss.

I remember days filled with thunder
Smelling of trees.
Te fertility of earth
Holding us,
Two of its own.

I remember pacific days
A gentle glance between us
A touch of hand on cheek
Brushing away that stray wisp of hair.

I remember when pacific times ended,
And I sat, dry eyed, waiting for you
And the sun shone bright and cold
And the gentle rain wouldn’t come
Where were you then?

An old dollhouse, peopled with my imaginations…
Geraniums on windowsills
Children in the kitchen
And then the house is left,
It gathers dust,
It grows cold,

Abandoned rooms house new tenants.
The spider and her brood:
The ants, searching for the last crumbs
Taken from the fairies tea party.

And then the house is abandoned.
Confined to a dark place.
Like my memories.

Then one day, the dead dream is discovered.
Exhumed by chubby hands once more,
Restored to its past glory,
Seen for what it was and is and could be.

Such are you, my love.
A house for dreams, but not for mine.
Yet I can still remember you, my love,
When I return to that dusty place
Where our days have been preserved.

Your dreams and mine diverge like streams.
Our dreams together gather dust
But as the ghosts of dreams,
They still gleam softly
And smell like rain.