You came to me again last night
through a dream no one can steal.
I reached for you
with arms of lead
...
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Your poem is pulsing with the intensity of grief of losing someone deeply loved. Indeed, in dreams there is no boundary between reality and what is wished for. Perfect 10!
A son is our flesh and blood... he is our own to love, no matter what he is! Thanks for sharing, top mark.
..........................................................sadness personified