In my Wildest Dreams

In my wildest dreams,

There would be strong coffee in the morning

And crisp, white sheets

A stream of light through an open window

And poetry.

Caffeinated musings would mingle with Blake and Rumi and Keats

And I would recite Plath and Dickinson just to level the playing field.

You would marvel at the Masters upside down,

Your head in my lap

And ask for permission to “profane my blushing pilgrims”

The only line you could ever remember from high school.

We would both know that words were maps that navigated our existence

And that’s why I would like you.

 

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