A Poem A Day, Poem #28

what more can I spend on sunlit dreaminess,
on slightly dripping journeys through the
old vibrations of a kiss and the words that lay
lips on the ears like a blanket on a cloud, soaking
up all the skin's rain with restlessness and
day-old reminders of tiredness and shadows
playing hands with the children we were, the
children we are when we travel together again
to that place we planted our flower and pretended
to watch it grow, is it blooming? has it survived?
do our dreams themselves dream? do the characters
we play remember to cultivate our memories with
water and wishes and tiptoe kiss-squishing stars
where our barehanded breathing makes better
buried heads