Dreamer

In the dark ink of sleep when time stops like frozen ants, I am surrounded in a dream where a candle light is burning and I can see you slowly turning Twoard me. I hear a wind chime tinkling in a warm moist breeze, hanging by a thread in a silhouetted tree as a cream filled cloud in a silver moon sky like a silent giant ghost ship slowly glides by, throwing pale blue reflections off a black glass bay where the water makes no ripples where there never comes the day, Then I pass — then I pass — then I pass myself falling, very slowly falling, and I'm getting smaller and you're getting taller and it's feeling funny butterflys are floating, very gently growing, inside my tummy, and there's no up there's no down there's no sound turn around I have found there's a light at the end of a bend, and I can see your face, in the candle flame and I can hear your voice whispering my name.