When My Dreams Cross The Line

I think of you, and what might have been.

Sitting on a couch, our minds serene,

we sip cinnamon tea to stave off the cold.

Your thigh against mine — our gestures grow bold.

The windowpane, winter caught in layered glass,

steams as we surrender to laughter and sass.

Clothes drift away like snow from the sill,

each touch a promise we’re aching to fill.

We talk, and we laugh, and we take and we give,

We share, and we cry, and we love and we live.

Time sweeps us forward in its sandy wake

As we dance through the years to the songs we make.

There's nothing to fear with your hand in mine —

That's what I think when my dreams cross the line.