A white cotton dress

Shrug it off and on the floor we watch our dreams writhe, with agony and wild in their eyes. A crystal ball of what could be and what isn't, because here and now we breathe. Empty signs and tram lines to nowhere in particular. Separate or the same car. Wooden floors chipped away. Flowers for the whole summer. A white cotton dress caught in the sunlight.  On a crisp morning you'll bring me coffee in the garden but still, a waterfall of tears when you slipped that one out. Quiet lamplight beside our bed. I'm sorry if I wake you. Leaving breadcrumbs out for you to follow. Pinning stars into your dreams so when you sleep tonight and every night. You'll know just what to fall into.