The Third Dream

 

I have again taken your hand
And at Newport Beach walked
You across the sand into
A rock grotto, tasted the
Freshness of your breath
And watched with you
The sea rustle the tide pools.

I’ve helped you into
The cockpit of our West
Wight Potter and sailed
You ever so slowly out
Past the breakwater lights,
Out into the wash
Against the seaward side,

And later when mast
Lights went winking
On sailed back watching
The darkness fall knowing
It would lift later on
In dreams if not
In reality.