The Dream

Would I recognise you by your
scars were you to
disappear and come back changed?

Would I believe all the
stories you tell you say
are true, yet feigned?

Are you the narrator of your life
of a road and a star
as picture framed?

Did you write that book in your
hand all lined, the pen
your pages stained?

What is your name, strange man
before me now with shining
eyes I claimed?

Will you stay with me
and our wide bed, hold hard
the love you gained?

A smile he gave in
answer me alone
the silence strained.

My wish fulfilled the
thread unwon, now he
stands unblamed.

The years are scars enough
he said, my home
this home I dreamed.

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