I dreamed of you last night, island girl.
I found you after wandering through
a cobalt night. You stood in bright
light under a white canopy. The music of
simple instruments and bamboo drums filled the air as I approached you.
We didn’t need to speak.
Instead, we danced close,
merging into a gathering of people with kind but unfamiliar faces.
Your black hair smelled of orange
mist and mango.
When you finally fixed your
dark eyes on mine, I understood why kittens purr and the first birds of morning
sing from the highest points.
—Mitchell Hegman
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