A chronological guided tour in the life of a man in search of that ethereal woman, the one that seems so real in our dreams, the one that most never find. Perhaps the most pure love ever, that never will know about deceit as it buries itself deep in the heart and will die with it when the time comes, as perhaps true lovers do.

I dreamed to hold her face between my hands
when I was young, just fifteen years old,
heart love struck with a mirage, an illusion,
like reaching for an image and going through,
awe covering the face at that twilight event,
she was there you knew but then…she was not.

I dreamed to kiss her lips for so a long time,
when I was older, about twenty five years old,
solitude’s winds breathed from dark dungeons
that I didn’t realized my own lips were so cold,
blue was the color given by that whiff that could
embalm any other lover’s defenseless innermost.

I dreamed to hear my name called, a summon,
when I was ready, around thirty five years old,
in the prime of my life I knew she was somewhere
I did only need to search in a so bite little world,
that it seemed almost impossible to ever miss…
but I did miss her, maybe I didn’t look far enough.

I dreamed to feel her body’s warmth besides me
when half way in life, being forty five years old,
feeling a shudder from a crawling skin with panic
at the receding gossamer, fast disappearing ghost,
the one I had kept so secret inside all my desires.
and the one which had held me alive for so long.

I dreamed to feel that touch of most tender fingers
when just rolling on decline, fifty five years old,
asking my self when I went deaf because didn’t hear
her whispers through heavy silences, not a voice
that could reassure my most intimate of my fears
that she was there, oh yes! I wasn’t no more alone.

I dreamed to see the reflection on her lovely hands
when the wrinkles appear, at sixty five years old,
of caresses given then, like forbidden Eden’s fruits,
to a man that searched trying to figure “what’s love”
getting at last the answer from the sweetest dream
and in the morning, it will be regret as I let her go.

I dreamed to be the only lover she ever wanted,
when old candles shiver, at seventy five years old
time loses that urgent meaning to reach a destination,
one asked the mirror, “do you remember my goals?”
cos, nothing make sense, the race for better things,
or a life shared that couldn’t be shared no more.

I dreamed to meet her every second of my existence,
when accumulated hours did eighty five years old,
to that zombies times of mine falling of the cracks
I feed them with every imaginable ticking clock,
knowing that perhaps we did pass each other once,
knowing that we already found each other…now.

I dreamed about her…Oh God!