If a thought has its own entity
I’d like mine in the form of a dove
Dewdrop-shaped, fluttering wings above
It communicates in serenity
Defined by infinity
Like liquid crystal it flows
Like a translucent flame it glows
In a languid Sunday afternoon it grows
To make itself known
By you
When the tip of its wing
Brushes against your face
Like a summer breeze
Ever so gently without a trace
And when finally sleepiness calls
As dusk falls
Let it find refuge on your shoulder
With a sigh I can sleep too
Knowing you are touched by my thought
Satisfied that my thought rests with you