In an Orange Grove
Like a small corner
Draped in country light
and ancient autumnal robes
a naked space in my mind
suddenly exposed.
My time here like a recurring dream;
again and again did I smell the smells
and the see the scenes that I once dreamt
an ocean ago
and stood, bathed in light, clothed
in reds and golds.
This small corner
an entire life and line from across
that ocean
leaving traces in speech and skin
reminding me again and again
of dreaming.
Time was, time is
no-themed magic,
a step from there to here
to wherever;
and I hold here love in my hands
and heart, surrounded by sound,
like breaking waves of warmth
and wonder.
And I do wonder, sometimes,
how and why
but then I remember and nothing
seems to matter or care
and robes close around me
and light rises within me
and sound like an ocean grows
and grows,
and dreaming breathes with me,
every step and tide and time…
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