A Poem for Us

If we were neighbors,
I would walk over this morning
and ask you to read this aloud to me.

I would likely bring my steaming cup,
milky and sweet,
to keep my hands warm against the frost
and to keep my focus
on the words of the poet,
my teacher, open.

What gratitude I have for you, Dear Friend.
You love the mysterious way our dreams are woven,
something out of almost nothing,
ideas bumping into everything.

Between us and the imagined twilight,
suddenly the world is all poem.