She Waves to the Waking

I dreamt of a lady laid out to sea,
her eyes were a given as she lay
face down in our sweet harmony.
That tender hair, like jelly in a way,
drifting on an almost buoyant key
made up of some curious bouquet.
I'm paddling by her, going real slow
and melodic with my troubled tie
drenched in white wine done long ago.
She ain't wearing any shoes so I try
to take mine off but they fall below
this surface and run from the sky.
I ask myself in these numb times why
we softly seem for those of us who
know how we're promising to lie.
Her hands are holding as if held by you
long enough that I begin to sigh
loud and clearly and wake up on cue.