We all have daydreams, of places & people & scents, of fairy lights & twilight & that moment at the end of the greatest night ever, just before a thunderstorm rolls in and cleanses the world.
Maybe these daydreams are an imagined past, or a wished for future. Maybe there are no fairy lights in yours. Maybe you don’t like thunderstorms. (I don’t, actually.) But you have these daydreams, your version of them. In your quiet moments. We all do.
Sometimes I wonder if my job as poet is simply to remind you of this, to paint you a word picture that would make you swear I am in your head, even though we’ve never met.