Doze

I wish the time would come

When we could talk past midnight

and you would say things about you

as I would say things about me.

We’ll have a speck of discussion

about the cosmos and the fates,

about dreams, and portions of complexity

unfazed by the words and ignorance

that fall on the mouths of people under daylight.

We'll talk about questions:

of hows and whys,

and we'll invite the dust of the moon

to settle down on our pupils.

As we wait, we’ll talk about glimpses of the unknown,

of hints of oblivion, and the foreboding present

until my mouth slips on its tongue

and I'd start to say things about you,

and maybe you’d say things about me.

And as night and morning starts to dance,

we could say things about us.