Gentle as a brook

For an entire week you appeared in my dream, gentle as a brook that flows in a silent forest receiving a slice of the sunlight on its body—illuminating the dust that passes through it. I reached out to touch you and feel your hair but you disappeared like mist, merging into the thin white air. You smiled and your eyes glowed a golden ochre, crinkling at the edges. I know we won't talk again, but somewhere we can meet when the sun sets on both our skins and we are silhouettes lost in the vast beach of life. Sand prickling our feet, we can hug for closure. Then we can conclude that we knew each other for a lifetime and probably will, for more lifetimes to come.