she leans across the table and
stretches forth her hand
of course i respond

a dash of cinnamon into the cup
why can’t i taste
the subtle intermingling you describe
am i that much of a barbarian?
perhaps

what does it matter she whispers
why shouldn’t we
why not
you’ll understand when you wake
this dream is not for us

my heart races as trembling
i place my hand atop hers
it is well with my soul