You say my dreams they will come, they are in my hand
But tell me, how can I sleep when my heart's in your hand?
The big sky is thick with bluish cloud like the quilt
wrapped round your shoulder, clutched in your hand.
The wanderer walks on paths laid by God
Like a drop of sweat skips down cracks in your hand.
Wandering we, in dream mountains, climb
Peaks of my talk and your talk, my hand in your hand.
The plane flies its path its journey prepared
Your journey’s a bird: warm, alive in your hand.
The reader reads in sequence, a line understands
We live in parallel like heart, life line in your hand.