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.
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