some nights
the oneiric insights
speak of
childhood fears
some nights
they show me and her
the wildflowers heavy
on the spring breeze
as we lie
staring up at
the blinking lights
her smile
more beautiful
than any constellation
seen by man

i learned
a long time ago
looking backwards
is a foolish gambit
there is nothing
to be found
but where it
already went wrong
so i stare forward
holding her hand
ready to face
whatever comes our way

everything else
is simply oneirism
to burn like
cottonwood fluff
down a gravel lane
i have all
i could ever want
in the real world
so the swirling past
is best left dead
the lessons learned
are all that count


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