back in those days, November was blowing wildly
my thoughts were racing towards you
pulling out the electric pillars and the no-overtaking signs
books that I've read, smiles that I've given,
all were inconsistent -
like translucent fingers in the sun.
my reality was a network made up of all the words you said
but especially
of all those words left unsaid

I remember now -
the green waters of your eyes flooding
my emotions shaping our motions
you used to program my dreams
using advanced computing systems
so that every night I dreamt music
I dreamt you stereo

then tunes turned into colors -
colors melted into lyrics -
lyrics that I'm writing
as you whisper in my ear: It is a dream. It is a dream.