In my dream last night I saw the two of us, walking off along a tree-lined promenade from centuries past, in summer. You held my hand. Did you love me? You meant no harm, letting your nails dig into my flesh. Something behind us, invisible, put us to fright. We ran, holding hands, away from what we did not know, on into the unknown. There was nothing beyond the promenade: when we reached the end, we would fall out of the world.
Did you see us, my love? Holding hands, walking, then running? Is that why we are not together?