Dreaming

My heart has bent itself into the shape of a crescent moon,
leaning gently: the unconcerned shape of a smile.

I laze in the full deep of night,
sprawling like a cat who remembers kittenhood;

Softly the dreams whisper in,
and the maiden-form of sleep surrounds me.

My body is an easy target, stretched out full,
baring to the night-world my secrets of manhood.

I see the colors of you and me,
and hear the laughter of unremembered thoughts;

I feel textures that speak of love and dearness,
and dialog with a concourse of shifting images.

Their words are as the light of the sun,
and they speak with the wisdom of a child's laughter, winsome:

I don't recall the message, or the meaning, only --
I feel it in the afterglow of waking, like body-knowledge:

The distance between you and me is a dream.