Dream Seeds

sprout.jpg
My friend left town today, after
sprinkling
some dream seeds in my heart.
Tonight I'm going over them
with careful eyes and
tender fingertips,
pressing them in a little deeper,
lest the winds of doubt
blow
them away.
 
We cannot be together without magic
sparking--
somewhere in my urban retreat,
or in the words she feeds me
like a meal.
I am sad tonight that she's
gone.
When the last guest leaves is the
moment
that makes my chest
ache.
 
It is easier to wait
for dream seeds to take root
and sprout
when someone paints
a picture of the bloom,
when she
exhales
its fragrance.
 
Tonight I'm staring at dirt.
Trying to remember.
Patience is my skin;
my insides are
words
and
breath.