Waves

There are waves in my dreams
That darkly shimmer like mica,
Heaping silver upon your wet feet,
And drawing it as they retreat.

The waves have travelled long,
Through the tides of liquid time,
Succeeding and making it so far,
Only to run aground and expire.

But I can feel no sadness,
Because this is just a dream.
Though horizonless and beautiful,
It remains equally unreal.

And the fragile memory droplets
I find in the morning dew,
Are bleached by sunless days,
Mine to keep, yours to own.

But still the waves are in my dreams
And as I look the sand dances,
The spirals and curls unfold
And all I see are bottomless answers.