I know you wrote the script…
“Anything different, more intimate, more violent and passionate, did not touch my wildest dreams…”
I think I’ve dreamed of you. I think your feet have walked that inner world at all times and though I never saw your face, I think you were there.
I think you whispered to me in my dreams of castles, of angels, of the perfect playground. I think your eyes inspired the adventures in oceans deep, that I swam and dived then as I do now… encompassed about by beauty. I think your hair, like gold, did adorn every sword hilt, did purchase my fare across arabian deserts and wintery wastes. I think your lips’ lovely curve was there in each cunning arch, each bridge from which I fed ducks and swans. I think they kissed me in the fair times, and spoke courage to me in the night terrors. I think your laughter made me fly.
I know I’ve dreamed of you.
Of such intimacy, of such passion and violent love, I would have to agree. I never saw it. Can a blind man dream of color before his eyes are restored? You are my rainbow maiden, and I need not look beyond you for a pot of gold, that would be far too literal.
A single kiss, a joyful laugh and a sparkling eye would fill me to overflowing for all of time. Any more and the world will be overcome by our happiness.