You return to me

across decades grown thick as forest

 

your face as familiar 

as the face of the moon.

 

You return, your veins filled with time

instead of blood

 

but I know it is you–though your body

has long since folded back 

 

into earth–still you, here.

Next to me. 

 

We have time. We can wait in this dream 

that one of us is dreaming:

 

your shadow holding 

my shadow’s hand.