I will wait for you in dreams and clover

while the sun steals auburn from my hair

and kisses my face with gold dust.



This feeling is not new.



The old photograph found me today.

One of the tie-straps from my homemade white top

built with my mother's hands falls

from my tiny shoulder. Pale tan lines

are an ivory rainbow. Blue embroidered

flowers blend into the sky so that I

am floating like a cotton cloud.

Hovering. Seven

years old and missing one front tooth.

And smiling like the world is mine

because I could feel you there

in dreams and clover.



I spent hours in search of that quiet anomaly

wondering how much it might be like me.

A mystery. A freak of nature. A happy accident.

A sought after jewel. A glorius mistake.

On wistful days, I found my way

to sacred lands. Lying on a bed of green

softness was my perfect afternoon.

Soaking in rays of light that followed and bathed

me, happy for every second.

I have never fully been in this world

except for rare moments

in dreams and clover.



When I first saw your face,

I knew you already.

I knew you from the scent of the earth

from some primal connection

from memories too old to be my own.

You were in the dirt and dampness

of that patch of ground I loved.

You were the four leafed gift,

Twin petaled, heart shaped.

You were the soft green. The piercing light.

Long before stolen glances,

I met you

in dreams and clover.



Days creep across the miles and

my wanderlust returns me again

to the simplicity and gravity of you.

Distance and time

fall into dust and wind,

becoming another part of us.

So, from 7 to 70, like eons before and after

I will wait

knowing that the choices I make are not mine,

after all. Lifetimes before and after this one

will sing you into my heart.

You are my own

escape and restoration

You are still here

in dreams and clover.

09/04/2006

Posted on 09/04/2006
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