Branched off

I dreamt of a thread, winding up in my head,
wrote secretly a truth, thought could have been a sleuth,
did it on the walls, like those days at the stalls
with presence,
and absence,
your essence fills it all.

I listened to the wind, stitches on my skin,
these days life feels so thin, rain keeps coming in,
I can barely hold your token, dare to think a door is open
a few lines,
showing signs,
account now for lost times.

I dreamt of a thread, went back twenty years
the sound of your words, traded my days with tears,
they dried my eyes, but not my soul
which in disguise,
kept this light
to pour in your bowl.