On Dreaming

On Dreaming

Tonight there are petals along the corridors
To your room, yellow candlelight leads
Your aching body through a world of scent
And you are enchanted by all that is vanishing:
The bags in your hands have disappeared
Your jacket has been unhooked and peeled away,
There are no walls which shudder when you walk through,
Only door frames becoming metaphor and similes.
There are no moths caught translucent on a window pane,
There are no panes - bookshelves have melted,
Catalogues recycled, and their forms have become an idea.
The same thing has happened with every electrical appliance.
Batteries do not exist, soft furnishings evaporate
Until all that remains is wood, linen, and feathers -
The only objects on the way to an absent window,
Where you take my hand from under the covers,
Curl around my back like a cape - and I wake
To walk through the snowflakes with you.