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fallingwishes

of places
they know you –
I so rarely go
for fear
they might mention
your name

and stand around
talking –
while dinner gets cold
lulled by the fusion
of luna to flame

by fate’s
intervention –
the illusion of time
– and clothes I don’t wear
anymore

dreams
are made less
by the way they must sound
when told by another
we knew
from before

when nights
glowed fluorescent
with stardust as dew
a faraway presence –
of light
shining through

will see me in ways
I’ve forgotten to be –
held by a smile
on its way back
to you

. . .