Recurring Dream

I still remember that recurring dream
Of seesaw kisses stolen near the ferns
Beside the door to your hotel, quick turns
Around the ballroom, skin like coffee cream
Turning to meet my hand, turning to steam,
Forgetting I’m a man who never learns:
The world has no concern for my concerns
However delicate, rash, or extreme.

So I keep hoping, carry on. You said
That nothing would remain now, at the last,
And you were right, of course. The dreaming past
Always will stay with me, here in my bed.
As always, I’m alone, my aching head
Still in the clouds, my hopes still rising fast.