Match and Me

The dreams that I have each night,
Should be kept under lock and key.
The names I should give these things,
Would have to be "Match and Me".

""Match" he'd say is the devil,
So he refuses to play me the role.
But "Match" I'd say is my Angel,
Who give me these words that I know.
Words that are shared with no other,
Words that relinquish my soul.

My mortal refuses to bring me,
To the place of letting it free.
A place that I've known of the wild things,
A place of passing the frame.
My "Match" holds time with His kisses,
And yields duration to me.

"Match" is so skilled with the letters,
His words call the waiting of dreams.
With my soul so tethered to longing and passion,
He guides it softly to the edges of gleams.
And here He arrests me with fever,
So that I hear....
The Gold, the Rose,,  the Turquoise....
And Green.

"Match" never refuses to bring me,
To His place of letting it free.
No stranger is He to enchantment,
No stranger to what it can be.
And 'ever I listen so close for His presence,
Hold close to the chancing of "Match and Me".