I dreamt
of you
sitting morosely at your desk
when a shower of small bright email icons
poured over you in a soft messy flutter
from the unending bucket I upended
above you
with simple innocent glee.
I smiled
at you
as each email icon burst open
into puffs of lilac fragrance
and little cheers of adoration
from all your scattered admirers
of you
and the mirth you’ve given them.
I wished
for you
that type of happiness I know I can’t give
so I’ll offer what I can in spades
and bury them between trick-worded lines
as directed by that daintied hand
that you
know far better than I.
I dreamt
of you
laughing as you saw who held me up
above your gold kissed head in mutual mirth
only to surrender unto impious peals of laughter
when he said it was this or braiding a goat’s beard
for you
he’d consider it.
Until he noted I make a very evil goat.