In dreams, it’s empty places that I wander
As desolate, desultory I ponder
The hollowness of who I think I am
In my dreams, always, rows of empty seats
As dark door by dim exit sign completes
The surreality of where I am
But peering into gloom, I catch the sweep
Of your swift figure in the shadows there
And though I lie enlocked in deepest sleep
I know it’s only dreams if you are there
To share is human:
Lucid dreaming. Nice. You’re an intriguing person.
Not most of the time. Right now, I have formula on my shoulder.
Lucky you!