Last Night’s Dream…
was about you.
That's not unusual. It's been going on all my adult life.
It's such a simple thing to tell you, to make you smile.
If someone told me that.
I'd smile.
You'll want to know what I dreamed.
I dreamed your face.
Your raven hair. Your beautiful eyes.
How you looked exactly the same
standing there - our appointed place - a long-long-time-ago.
The first time we met my heart sang.
It sang again last night
lucid dreaming through ancient streets.
Do you remember us? Walking together
up the steps to the house. Sitting on the bench, talking.
I held your hand.
You saw me then - A Fool on the Hill.
So many - my dream filled nights pass this way - still you come.
Celtic. Beautiful. Young.
And I really don't know why that should be -
I'm so old.
In my last nights dream you didn’t see me
striding up St Catherine’s Hill - searching -
looking for you.
I’d almost reached you when you turned around -
and walked away.
Image; Art Johnstone. ‘Our appointed Place’. Winchester 1982.