After Sunrise

I would like to reach you

if I could

but we both know

that my arms cannot ignore

the laws of time.

Of course, in dreams
where rules don’t matter,
and a poem is more than a poem,
my words can touch reality –
your reality
at least while I am asleep.

I get tired, too.
Paper is such a flimsy medium
for the intensity
of this wistful tenderness
but it is all I have
for now

because it is daylight
and you cannot listen.

How will it feel, I wonder,
to smile for you?

Find me.

I would share with you
how to look for patches of sky
embroidered with acacia leaves
I would whisper
what a woman really means
with her Mona Lisa smiles
and explain
that really, spiderwebs
are for catching dewdrops
and not butterflies at all.

I will speak,
I will listen

when it is time.

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