eternal stars: dream a little dream of me

 

eternal stars: dream a little dream of me 

estefaaano_writes 

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Yes, there they are again, those eternal stars, 

How they shimmer like memories barely caught, 

Was it not just yesterday when we stood beneath them? 

Or was it years ago?

Time moves so strangely in the dark hours.

When it breezes,

(how they stir the curtains, how they lift the edges of papers on my desk, those half-written letters I never sent) 

It carry whispers that might be yours, 

Might be merely the ticks of the clock on my wall.

Sleep eludes me, 

Darts away like a fish in dark water, 

Though I chase it through corridors of memory—

Where your voice tells me "Nighty-night"

You said, such a simple phrase,  

It contains multitudes, 

Contains all the nights we ever shared 

And all we might have shared.

Had time been kinder, 

Had the earth spun differently on its axis. 

I reach for sleep but find instead these fragments of you, 

Fragments of us, 

Scattered like these eternal stars 

Across the expanse of our consciousness.

The dawn will come,

(it always does, relentless in its march in the infinite sky, the clouds in shades of rose and gold that reminds me of your smile, of the way light caught in your hair)

But for now, 

This faint space midst waking and dreaming, 

I hold our moments close.

  

Dreams, yes, 

They come and go like waves lapping at the shores, 

Each one carrying its own songs of hopes and fears and longings. 

What dreams visit you, 

I wonder, in your own dark hours? 

Do they speak of me in whispers or in shouts? 

Do they carry you back to our moments, 

Or forward to possibilities yet unrealized? 

The stars are fading now 

(or is it my vision that blurs?), 

But still I linger, 

Caught in the strings of wishful thinking, 

Of memories, of might-have-beens.

Morning comes, 

(I hear the first stirrings of the city, the distant rumble of cars, the calls of early birds different from their nighttime brethren), 

But here, I hold fast to this dream-state 

Where past and present flow together 

Like watercolors on wet paper, 

Where you are both present and absent, 

Where love exists in all tenses simultaneously. 

Past, present, future.

And some other time that has no name, 

That lives only in spaces between eternal stars, 

In pauses between breaths, 

In the moment before waking.