Wishful Thinking

Dreams wash in and out, like
The sea on shingle, forever
Crashing and pulling, pushing
And shoving but neved without
Love.

Dreams of happiness, where
Passion, lust, love, call it what you
Will, warms me like the heat of
High summer at midday, where no
Cruelty or anger lives, just
Love, just happiness.

Dreams of kisses, some short and
Tender, a signature to statements
Sometimes delivered in haste.
Others are long, driven by desire,
Lust addles the control and so it
Is lost, a passion stronger than
Hurricane, mightier than anything
Else in life, including the power of
Death.

Dreams of marriage, home,
Children, two, perhaps three, maybe
Even more but definitely a few.
A romantic wedding, a sensational
Honeymoon, a modest but cared
For home, which gradually became
Filled, first love, then pets
And at last children.

Dreams of belonging only to him,
His name added to mine, his ring
Safely planted on my finger, his
Seed mixed with me, only his name
Running through my core, all of
My love is his, and to him it means
So much more than it did to
Anyone else, I am his, he is mine.

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