You tell me you dream, of having your hair again
and I remember weeping
over the old photographs,
but now it’s Christmas, and the beauty
overwhelms us, heals the grief
so we can look to the future
with a strength, we did not know before.
We are healed
and breathing love,
I think your dreams are beautiful
but not more beautiful than you,
so sit with me for a while,
and we can dream together,
looking at the lights,
as I reach for your hand.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2015, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”