Some Dreams

Some dreams are like nights
we could not finish
or days that would not come
and when a shipload of old faces
would steal the moon
leaving a silver wafer
to haunt the empty space
no one asked, "Is it real?"
In a pond
melancholy lovers
pour out stars
like blue flames
and when I pass
we look at one another,
eyes soaked with midnight
white irises, white teeth
lips that open to receive the sky.
© PW