dreams

There amidst the snow, our arms stretch out, white powder cresting in slow moving waves. The soft resound of winter’s ashen flesh against our mortal forms. Looking over the smile saddled upon your face shimmers with the lunar rays. No one here but you and I, this moment I think of as I wait for the snow to fall. Turning over in my bed, beneath many blankets I smile, nuzzling the thick pillow.

My thoughts drift to your bed, the thick voluminous depths of the many pillows and down comforter which house your angelic form. The many nights I sit, watching as each breath is drawn in and expelled out, tumbling over my still form.

These are what dreams are made of.