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"Are you a dreamer?" She asked. "I am," I said. We stared at each other, in silent understanding. She did not know what it was to be a dreamer, to the extent that I was but she understood what it meant. She understood that it meant that my heart had shades of maroon and burgundy and folding felts of the night hidden in its crevices. That the Sun did not shine on me with only light but also warmth, and that for me the breeze did not just shake the leaves but tickled them. She knew all of that without actually knowing how it was, and knew that the implication was that some of that would trickle to her by staying with me over the years, And she looked forward to it. |
Copyright ©2017 Ashi Shadow - 9/21/17 on Rasika.
It is fictional.
It is based upon me sending her Wind by James Arthur:https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/wind-0 and imagining her reaction to it.
However, it is also an exaggerated reaction.
She is sufficiently a dreamer herself, that this is actually on some kind of fictional, less of a dreamer yet still having yearning, kind of woman.