In dreams you live at night.
I come, guardian of golden light,
dressed in warm flowing, gushing gown
of fluid possibility. I eat juicy plums
and laugh at life’s unpredictability.
I come to keep Love’s hope alive,
and to ensure you will go on, survive.
On frightening days I sometimes hide,
cry tears that reveal the sad inside.
Yet you must remember for all the years.
Wind, that whistler of wonder and woe,
follows me always. It bellows, blusters and blows
me back toward you, true love that was first
and shall be last. Come, partake of this present:
Our love’s future is its past.