Filing my dreams:
Silent and deep, no sound, no thoughts. Softness wraps around as she sleeps.
Yellowed background, this photo in my mind. In a flash, look quick, it will not last.
If I could draw, my eye would sketch, through milky film, and how he was dressed. Generations before, a young fella, not in my years.
I must stop this rhyme, I feel like I am running out of time.
Toe-head perhaps, deep-set dark eyes, striped shirt on a lean frame, light trousers cinched with a string.
Not knowing who he was, I got lost in those eyes. They pulled me in, then woke me with a start.
Sitting straight up in bed, not knowing him and where to begin. I am curious how this search will end.
I will. I promise.
He asked in my dream.
how could he be found