In your own time you dream
And the night moves across you
Caressing you like a missing lover
Or one that never was;
Images of the mind’s eye
Materialize from within
With eyes closed and heart open
You fall again into abandon;
Your lover touches you
Lowering your resistance
Until you surrender willingly
Never to wake again;
In your own time you dream
Floating there forever
Lost in things that used to be
Or that never were
Poem by Paul D Aronson.
Artwork: artist unknown.
“Drifting Out Of Dream”
She comes drifting out of dream, long tresses changing from raven to red, canary to chestnut, like a rainbow reflecting all the beautiful things about her. She doesn’t speak, there’s no need to. She knows me, I know her, and in the fantasy state I am familiar with every inch of her form, beneath the flowing gown she paints herself in.
I have held her so many times in the unwaking that her body seems molded just for my embrace, as if we are the perfect fit of heaven, paradise, and all things wondrous. Her lips are mine to taste, no one else just I, and though she has flitted in and out of other’s dreams, it is here in the sweetly maddening dreams of mine that she returns, coming back to the one who first adored her from nothing, who loved her ‘fore he knew her, who waits beyond the doors of his imagination for her to come to him.
Her mouth whispers his name, and it’s mine, her kisses lain wantonly upon me, tongues dancing across each other, hungry and desperate as if this is the last dream we’ll have. And in the swirling of cloth that seems to just fade away at my touch, we are both naked and exposed, all our imperfections, all our frailties, explored just as lovingly as if we were the perfect Gods and Goddesses of old.
I love everything about her, her delirious scent, reminiscent of jasmine and lavender; her touch that while confident still trembles in anticipation of me touching her; her lightly painted lips, moist and waiting for my mouth to cover her own; her skin, once white now tanned by her pale lover the sun; her dreamy eyes caught somewhere between the seas and storms; her long tresses changing from raven to red, canary to chestnut…
Paul D Aronson.
Into the night, away from the day
Flee from the light to where shadows lay
Into your dreams where nothing is certain
Parting the screams with your velvet curtain
Boys will be boys, girls will be girls
But I am destroyed by the cruel world
Then you find me, fear soaking wet
And your lips bind me by night in your debt
Touch me to dreaming til my body quakes
While windows are steaming I will not awake
I’ll stay here like this, breathless and numb
It’s a form of bliss to hide from the sun
By Paul D Aronson. 2003. All Rights Reserved.