Wednesday, November 10, 2010


I stamped your image
on coins of base metal,
hoping to buy love
from the blind woman.

Whose picture is that?

No one. No one at all.
I only dreamed you,
some lonely night,
a summer night
of the soft moon.

Dreams buy nothing here.

Dream is my currency,
the bright and worthless
coinage of my life.
The sightless
turn them in their hands.

Whose picture is that?

Hers. Always hers.

Dreams buy nothing here.

I know that.

Stephen Brooke ©2003

Another oldie. I'll continue to post one occasionally...and maybe write some new stuff eventually.

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