In France people dream in FrenchA Poem by Girl on the Moon
And they dream in the language of love
Because that’s what they do,
Walking from café to park bench
Retracing routes from above
Retracing what they thought they knew
As their own.
Do we dream with the sound off?
Breaking the sound barrier with our
Touch. Is our touch what dreams are
Made of? And if so, how much
Does it take for me to cross over
Can we dream in loving silence
Can we do what they do
Can we do as they do
And dream in the language
But without a listening audience?
Either way, I dream of you
© 2012 Girl on the Moon
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