Cerulean dream

I dreamt thee yesterday:
Pneuma, wind, birds, love…
Two strings and a bandoneon.

Poems with my feather I sketched thee:
Azure ink on thy paper skin.

Euphoric breezes:
Fascinating transmutation;
of platinum windows
and not of crystal.

The tango
enlivened thy magnetism,
singing
our bodies we united,
and with mist
the stars we faded.

«Say no to the impossible»
they adverted me,
but they never met thee.
Neither did I.

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