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41 " I dream my poemsand write my dreams.We can only write our own dreams, not the dreams of others,for our dreams speak from our hearts.For those who do not dream poems,how can they know what dreams their hearts want to write? "
― Jeffrey A. White , A Blueness I Could Eat Forever
42 " Placing his snout on the edge of my bed, Boomer pricks up his ears and widens his smiling eyes when I turn my head towards him.I smile at Boomer. "I guess you want to go for a walk?" Boomer bobs his head in agreement and runs around in a circle."Okay," I say.I turn over,throw off the blankets,raise my upper body and swing my legs around and over the edge of the bed. I sit on the edge of the bed with my feet touching the floorand my hands at my sides, all holding me up as my upper body leans over the edge.I am still half asleep. I look around to my right for Boomer, but he is no where to be found. Boomer went for his last walk some thirty years ago. "
43 " Your house has two colors," she said, while looking up at a corner of my ceiling and walls. "Yes," I replied. "Why is that rainbow beach blanket on the couch?"I replied, "Color."She bent over and ripped the beach towel off my white couch. Maybe she thought I was trying to hide something. "You talk a lot," she said sarcastically.I looked back at her. Maybe I raised an eyebrow,but I didn't say anything.She's right, of course. I don't talk much.I am a simple man. I speak from my heart.Sometimes, I write poetry. "
44 " It all seems like a dream, now. Gray, old men ambling about a bookstorein the old Jewish quarter of Paris. As everything is suddenly soaked a dark stain,we duck inside a door stoop. I gently pull you closer and look into your eyes,azure pools that invite me to sink into their sensuous depths.Time slows as everything revolves around usand planets, stars and constellationsslowly turn like clockwork,as we dream our love, our universe — together. As darkness drains from the early morning sky,I pull you up to my chest and whisper, "Do you remember when we were caught in the rain in Paris?"You squeeze my hand. It all seems like a dream, now. One love, one dream, one universe,with only you and me, together,dreaming our love forever. "
― Jeffrey A. White