I saw you in a dream twice last night,
and I felt I knew you, though
we never met in this life.
I thought you were Spanish, but
you said you were Spanish and Italian.
You were in my arms suddenly, and I
liked the feeling.
Then you were gone but appeared
again as I wandered a city street.
We talked for a while as you stood
so endearingly close to me.
Pity I didn’t get your name and will
never see you again.
After all, it was only a dream.
But a part of me hopes it was more
than a dream.

Bob Boyd