Dreams of the heart

I dreamed last night
dreams of the heart,

swirling dress, softly
touching my bare skin;

how sweet the world
in morning’s light,

when I was pliant
in the poet’s hands,

aroused from sleep
by caressing words,

touching my breast,
like insistent fingers

penetrating my soul,
until I was floating

amongst the clouds,
where I heard him

calling my name,
then falling, falling


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