In all my dreams, the fog is blue

as if, -almost- the intensity of your sadness

painted my universe.

In all my dreams, you return.

We’re floating in the deeply blue

as if, -almost- the drowning ship of youth

refuses to swim.

We’re floating and, then, you return.

Lost love of hopeless teenage years

as if, -almost- in blue fog you see me clearer,

you knew we’re only dreaming?

Lost love, you return.