Just dreams. And so what harm could they do?
what did Puck say? what was it...? ...no more yielding... yielding... to dream.
Orbs of air, like weightless quicksilver, slide from my nose as I roll to my back.
And now I see where you had been standing, that air blessed with the fragrance of your sweat...
I wait here, listening to the words here and there that flutter out through the screened windows...
... of course, when you’re standing naked by the fire, there is no real space for words.
Leaves 