Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming of you.
From a window across the lawn, I watched you as you undressed. Wearing only your sunset of purple, which was tightly woven around your hair, you moved within a realm of logic that only existed in this world.
Wading through a pool of yellow bedroom light, the sunset on your head falls onto the floor, and your body is obscured only by your sheer curtains which match the mahogany wood in your room.
Now, the air is wet with sound... a distant fugue of a dog yelping, the adagio of summer cicadas. A concerto breeze resonates through the trees.
And the ground is drinking a slow faucet leak from the storm's afterglow. Your house is so soft and fading as it soaks in the late summer heat.
Suddenly, a light goes on and the door opens. A black cat runs out on a stream of hall light and into the yard. A dampened lilac scent is faintly breathing the air as I hear your champagne laugh. You wear two lavender orchids; one in your hair, and one on your hip. The string of cerise and amethyst lights come on with the dusk, and you become drunk from their life.
Then, you dance into the shadow of the dark, vineyard tree and I watch you as you disappear.
I watched you as you disappeared.