The Place of dreams

I've been missing a place, and it's forever loyal aromas, I remember the peacocks on the front lawn, hiding , playing , flying and pecking at the ground, I miss them, the ancient paintings, the smell of smoke throughout the rooms, packs of cigarettes and cases of wines, poetry in the air, I miss the thoughts exchanged with him and her, on the side porch, And the times when she will pull in the driveway, lock up the gates, When she'd walk through the doors, when I awkwardly fell in love, and I know there is no explanation needed, for it's not a love of lust, it's more like knowing in those moments, that remembering them will feel, just as intense and comfortable, as our time spent was, your influence... purple dreams floating in my mind.

In this Dream

In this dream, the only one who feels you is YOU, the only one who knows it's you is YOU, No other can see Your SELF... You are immense, a depth-less trench, and a pinch, You are a speck in the eye of the dream. You were once a being, You were once a raindrop, You were once a cold mountain, a sip of coffee, a scar, a photon of light, a cipher... You were once a naught , You were given a birth and you will be given a death! Nothing was yours, Nothing is taken from you, Only shuffled... Into different patterns, Nothing is produced, Only experienced , Creation is merely a placidity waiting to be heard by your self.

One for you...

here's to you, moon
and all the wine drank
under your eyes,
and to lovers who feel
your breath on their necks
and streaked ripples
cutting through ink black puddles
and to hanging on
to the last streaks of the night