In Dreams

Their eyes meet, their hands touch
A rippling current through their souls.
This love could work, but not as such.
Perhaps if they’d played different roles.



He longs for her on cold, long nights
She wishes he could share her bed.
He thinks of her and dims the lights
She drifts to sleep – he fills her head.



In dreams they live the life they can’t
The closeness they so deeply need.
“She’s not your kind.” That’s just a rant.
On hope they thrive. On love they feed.



Perhaps one day two loves will merge
Becoming one with shared tomorrows.
Until that time on dreams they’ll surge
And live their lives in quiet sorrow.