By Unaided Vision

Sweet scent of wet wood
comes
like an ancient sign
that had been waiting.
The sky peters out
into blackness
and all I see is
my dream-image of you,
softly in my blurred
dream-vision.
I am near-sighted,
and the slightest glimpse
will go unnoticed.
I need fireworks,
a train to burst
into sight, I want
streamers sparking
as they cross the moon.
But
black and white
is all the strength
of this world.

very nice I enjoyed reading this piece and what most caught my eye is this line:

''I want
streamers sparking
as they cross the moon''.

very nice :)

Lykren, I like the stream of conscious flow of this poem. It could be read as an erotic poem, but then again, it may just be me.