Mother

I'd loved you even

Before we had met,

Outside my dreams, and so,

I go seeking,

Furiously scratching in

All your corners

Turning over old

Piles of dust, and

Sifting through them,

For flecks of the stuff

I'd known so well, as

What made up

The bricks of the cities

My mother had built,

Even before I

Was part of her dreams.