Sap...

[paperleaves]

I had a dream
that we were swimming
in God's lachrymal ducts
propelled by coathanger bicycles
and when He cried
we flew into space
side by side
examining asteroids, and black holes
and the things that keep us speculative
I had a dream
that in the Winter
we collected butterflies
in shoeboxes
and when the snow fell,
you would run with bare feet
to get the mail, just to feel
what cold is.
I had a dream
that I was purple
how preposterous.
I had a dream
that you liked oatmeal
so much, that for Christmas
you made me buy you the Quaker oatmeal man.

I had a dream
that you loved me
and made me grilled cheese
on summer nights
when the sitcoms grew too boring
and I
never
woke
up.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh! I was slow to see this... and though it comes in your inimitable voice it seems to me more undisguisedly sad! I imagine that sadness, even extreme sadness, must be the price you pay for being paperleaves but I hope there is mirth and glee and some plain old s-kicking frivolity to it!

[paperleaves]

Oh, Jer, only a poet would know a poet's innate sorrows and joys...

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh, Jer, only a poet would know a poet's innate sorrows and joys...

I accept no credit as a "poet," but as someone deeply in love with your soul and your restless heart, yes!