My heart was swimming

in words gathered by the wind.

My voice bounded

into a cloud-carried tomorrow.



My heart trembled

in the moon-swayed mirror.

Soft tears,

spilled with a stream of stars.



Isn't it beautiful?

If we could walk, hand in hand,

I'd want to go

to your town, your home, in your arms.



I dream of being

against your chest,

my body in your keeping

disappearing into the evening.



Words halted by wind are

a gentle illusion.

A tomorrow torn by clouds is

the voice of a distant place.



My heart that had been

in a moon-blurred mirror that flowed,

Those stars that trembled and spilled

cannot hide my tears.



Isn't it beautiful?

If we could walk, hand in hand,

I'd want to go

to your town, your home, in your arms.



My dream of your face,

that I softly touch,

melts in the morning.