I met her in a dream this morning.
We must have been college students.
She had dark hair, I think.
Working on some project or another,
I thanked her for helping me.
And she, leaning at my shoulder,
As I sat at table or desk,
Drew near and our lips touched.
Not a kiss, wet and passionate.
A touching.
Furtive.
Curious.
A moment of wondering.
My hand touched her arm.
Hesitant.
Tentative.
Then she was gone.
Awakening, I remembered life,
New and fragrant with possibility.
When friendship may have been love.
I wonder what she would think of me now,
after all these years.
Would she remember?
Silly old man.
I only met her this morning,
In a dream.