We dreamed large mouth-watering dreams tonight.
He and I,
Under the muse of the Gillian Welch and candlelight.
With baby squeals and dog begs,
We thought aloud.
There’s been so much abasing
Could we even remember how to abound?
A full body tattoo of abasement,
Surely we’re almost done?
Probably not. Hopefully so.
God is a pilot
circling the runway
While you stare down
at the city of your dreams
pleading to land.
joy, i have read this about a million times and waited to comment because i didn’t want to diminish the depth of what you wrote.
thank you.
Thanks Abigail. I’m glad it resonated with you.