Dreamer Copyright © Jen Overett 2011

Last night, I dreamt us young again, then woke
to yet another working day. I saw the soft flesh
of our hands, your one-was-wavy hair, such youthful
kindness in your half-turned face, and knew once more
the old delight re-formed, the many paths I’ve traced.

And when I rose to dress, an absence ranged
and raged inside my skin, my voice felt raw,
the daily news misplaced, the landscape of this
time-locked one-chance world reduced to scraps,
and dust, and lonely roads laid out towards despair.

Yet over morning coffee, dreams will fade, hearts leap
as always as the new-born sun, wild clouds form in the air.
I kiss my loving man goodbye – he too is kind, and
(like me) turning grey, step out to yet another working day.