I think deeply at times past and the pangs come hard and sharp. Of times, when we made music without musicians present. The future is unpredictable but the dreams are vibrant. Yet, possibilities are still endless, aren’t they? A wise man would not second guess.

There you are, but not really here. I see you. No words escape your lips. Your eyes penetrate through me, telling a story, as the distance remains. My skin prickles, yet patience is an impenetrable virtue.

What is the point of wishing for something that is not yours? I dare not move closer. Rather, I rest my thoughts in the silence of mind. I keep you there for safe keeping, in this dream, while my pussy silently wishes.

“A DREAM PANG” BY ROBERT FROST

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;
And to the forest edge you came one day
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—
He must seek me would he undo the wrong.

Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
And tell you that I saw does still abide.
But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.

What I am listening to: Fleetwood Mac ” Dreams”