Seagulls circle and fall from clouds
of aqua and amber light.
Their cries play like jazz silhouettes in the cold Icelandic spring.
From a distance,
your smile encircles me making me whole once again.
From the dream,
cups in cafes chatter and roll with conversations that go long into the night;
poetry of pure sound echoing across an abstract canvas.
Light laughter carries on the wind through the streets of reykjavik;
echoes of the past weaving an ancient poem.
Keats would smile to hear the music of a sigh.
you turn and laugh from a doorway I've always known;
snow melting beneath your feet
the dream taking my heart away
while seagulls circle the sun waiting to begin once more.