Ursa Minor

I have a dream that we go out together to the lake. We take our bikes, secure them to the car with the rope that you bound me with earlier that night. We ride around the water together until sunrise, soaking in the calm and the peace.  I smile, you smile, we’re content. I put my hand to the lake, and the carp suck at my fingers. The sound of water rushes, the fresh smell of water drifting through the air. You watch the stars. I look at you, and you trace your finger in the air, Ursa Minor. When I start to tell you the story of Kallisto, you smile. I touch your cheek, draw a kiss, feel your hair brush lightly on my skin.

In my dreams, I can say “I love you” without being afraid of what you might say back.

When you get tired, we tie the bikes back up, I drive us both home.

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