Dreams

I dream about his hazel-green eyes.

About the way he made me cry.

I dream about the way his hand fit perfectly in mne.

How I never could understand why.

Dreams are created from this dirty blonde boy.

I know the crinkle by his eyes from the laugh that was joy.

His laugh created an echo in my dreams.

Filled with his voice smooth as cream.

I dream of the happy dreams.

Knowing he never was what I seemed,