The Lock of Hair Under my Pillow:
The owl-land of dreams is your new kingdom
Perhaps around the borderland of dreams
Is where you are now. Painful daydreams rise
Inside me when a lovely memory streams
From pasts that you can never touch. Your eyes
Are blanker than a moon there in the realm
That you have passed to. They see nothing of
My suffering. Blindness has taken the helm
And cannot steer you to the shores of love.
But is it true that dreams have borders? Are
There places dreams can never reach? The nights
And days that dreams occur in may not stretch as far
As mind. Perhaps they fly to wider heights.
My visions maybe stroke your deafness where
You went. Perhaps they sing inside your hair.