“You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.” J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


The white houses that hug the hillside by day

Are set adrift in an inverted world by night,

Floating, tilted on the lip of the sea.

Black curved waves lick the edges of silvered clouds,

While single stars swim ashore.

We could be anywhere;

Hidden away in a dream.

Your fingers are cold

As you reach out, searching a landscape

For me.

Dawn breaks to a mist

That coats the pockets of the land in salt-edged dew.

Your fingers are cold

As you tilt my chin to a kiss

That tastes of the sea.

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