The Dream, Pablo Picasso

Night after night

I picture the face

In every daydream

The cashmere notes of the voice.

Every visit to the mailbox brings

Impossible hope

Every ping of the phone a cruel joke.

I see you in the books I read

The films I watch

The news of the day

The eyes of the neighbors dog.

Today I struggled with my studies

And unbidden, I imagined you

Helping me.

I heard a song and wondered what

Those deep notes would sound like.

In short,

My mind has been infected by thoughts of you,

A virus of the heart perpetually keeping the image in my mind.

How strange it is for we have never met!

And so I dream still of my mirage.