Secondhand Dreams Poem by Bill Smith

I listened as she spoke of love
She spoke as if she knew
She spoke of what could happen
I thought maybe that’s true
She spoke of far off places
Of mountains sun and sea
I listened rapt I wanted
A piece of this for me
She spoke of candlelit dinners
By beach and by moonlight
She spoke of nights of passion
She spoke of sheer delight

My world was building around her
As if she’d wrote my dreams
She spoke of feet cooling
In crystal mountain streams
I flew on flights of fancy
I travelled far and wide
She spoke of our tomorrows
She turned an ebbing tide

She spoke of poets, of authors
Books that she had read
She prised my soul open
She crept inside my head
She touched me with her tenderness
She warmed me with her smile
She spoke of our forever
Promised the extra mile

She spoke of walls in China
Of palaces in France
Of spending time in Venice
Of masquerades and dance
She filled my heart with longing
She filled my eyes with love
She took me from the depths
She raised me high above
Who could ever doubt her?
Who would want her wrong?
She kissed the lips before her
She hummed her favourite song

Her eyes became my lighthouse
They shone a path to hope
Her mouth became my future
With every word she spoke
When all talk was over
She took anothers hand
Eavesdropped on conversation
Dreams stolen secondhand