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While still asleep, or mostly so,
I blindly reached out to you.
You were (awake) never there,
never had been (awake) there,
so I might perhaps seem a fool
or at least naive, to reach out so.

I pulled a pillow near,
and in my sleepy arm
you nestled warmly, quietly.
My night passed quietly.
I lay content, lay warm
in a love not even here.

Sometimes a dream can warm.
Sometimes a love, reaching,
finds a pair for a sole heart’s
dreaming. Maybe two hearts
can find each other, dreaming,
In the quiet hours before dawn.

Fools and the wise meet in the deep.
Around my dream abysses lurk
treacherous, fearful, scary, dark.
Here and now, this present dark
is warm though, and loving. No hurt
can touch me, here with you, asleep.

BT Murtagh

~ by BT Murtagh on April 13, 2013.

Personal, poetry, Writing