she is not
a dream come true
because a dream
is reliant on
my own experiences
while she is
an accumulation
of her own
forged into
a shimmering state
of pure perfection
unreliant on
the flames
that created me

now she fills
my every dream
in shades of
emotive wonder
i could never
have imagined
on my own
she is not
my dream come true
rather she is
a force of nature
who magically
reconstituted
my every longing

she is no dream
no fleeting thought
but a bedrock
on which dreams
are created
a timeless beauty
to rival the sun
i was no dreamer
just a hopeless fool
lost in fields of
languid confusion
watching in amazement
as the wildflowers
in her smile bloom