Mon Rêve
In my dream you were walking down the sidewalk
in front of my house wearing a breezy cotton sundress
As you passed my fence, we shared a stranger's smile
a momentary love affair foreshadowing things to come
I waited until you turned the corner to unlatch the gate
on the off-chance that tomorrow you'd let yourself in
I planted tigerlilies around the side of the house
and pulled some thistles that had rooted in the beds
The next morning you came in holding an empty leash
looking for your dog who had worked himself loose
we found him as he leaped into my pond, barking at ducks
we drank espressos in the yard while we waited for him to dry
You walked home without a promise, just a little hope
that maybe tomorrow would bring more of the same
thinking about me as I sat on my couch thinking about you
my hands still shaking and warm from when you touched them
The next morning you didn't need the lost dog charade
just walked over and sat down next to me on my porch
your leg touching mine on the swing as I tried not to stutter
laughing nervously, watching dogs chase deer through the yard
I set the kitchen table after you left, lunch - nothing serious
picked out some non-committal, unpretentious music for ambience
I stayed up all night thinking of things to talk about
that would seem spontaneous and wickedly clever
You seemed at home at my table, comfortable in new surroundings
still there were so many things left unspoken and undone
clumsily dancing on the tips of our tongues and fingers
we bathed in so much uncertainty and premature regret
Still we were left with the cautious promise of another afternoon
I trembled and laid fresh linen sheets across my empty bed
then the next morning I peered through my basement window
and watched you walk away after finding the gate to be locked
in front of my house wearing a breezy cotton sundress
As you passed my fence, we shared a stranger's smile
a momentary love affair foreshadowing things to come
I waited until you turned the corner to unlatch the gate
on the off-chance that tomorrow you'd let yourself in
I planted tigerlilies around the side of the house
and pulled some thistles that had rooted in the beds
The next morning you came in holding an empty leash
looking for your dog who had worked himself loose
we found him as he leaped into my pond, barking at ducks
we drank espressos in the yard while we waited for him to dry
You walked home without a promise, just a little hope
that maybe tomorrow would bring more of the same
thinking about me as I sat on my couch thinking about you
my hands still shaking and warm from when you touched them
The next morning you didn't need the lost dog charade
just walked over and sat down next to me on my porch
your leg touching mine on the swing as I tried not to stutter
laughing nervously, watching dogs chase deer through the yard
I set the kitchen table after you left, lunch - nothing serious
picked out some non-committal, unpretentious music for ambience
I stayed up all night thinking of things to talk about
that would seem spontaneous and wickedly clever
You seemed at home at my table, comfortable in new surroundings
still there were so many things left unspoken and undone
clumsily dancing on the tips of our tongues and fingers
we bathed in so much uncertainty and premature regret
Still we were left with the cautious promise of another afternoon
I trembled and laid fresh linen sheets across my empty bed
then the next morning I peered through my basement window
and watched you walk away after finding the gate to be locked

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