I had a dream I was at your house and it was raining.
Raining in winter.
A dark street of blues beyond a water soaked window.
I know you picked your house based on the good, soft light
but in the dream,
it was all dark & sharp like dusk.
And you whispered,
"Some of the children are sleeping,
let's let them sleep and go to the park."
I didn't want to go.
I wanted to stay in
and watch the rain roll down the glass canvas.
I didn't want to leave the comfort of the house.
But I didn't want to seem weak so I followed you out.
Our 2 girls beside us; little ones left unknowingly behind,
sleeping in a big golden bed.
I could smell their napping breath.
See their matted hair.
Out on the street, we had a ball.
The kind that echoes when it hits the ground.
The girls bounced it as we traveled.
It made a sucking noise against the wet sidewalk.
The rain was real.
It deepened the green of the grass.
Darkened the black of the asphalt.
Bleed the red of my jacket.
I could smell its chalkiness; taste its wet body in my mouth.
Feel the heaviness of the color-soaked air.
But it wasn't cold like I had feared, only cool and flat.
The winter was dying.
And you were walking beside me,
crying behind the curtain of your long hair.