Sun Dreams

        A fountain whispers softly, dark the woods.
      In raiment bright as stars did crown her brow,
      The Lady hid her heart and silent stood
      Awaiting magic lost in sighing bough.
      So pale the rose that elsewhen shining blooms,
      Now lost the kiss that answered wistful call,
      To scorn-filled words, a moonlit dreaming's doom,
      Harsh gift of Knight, as blackest night doth fall.
      A silence stuns as dreams lie cold near death,
      Who walks a path once sundered from all fears,
      The gardens gasp to give her one more breath,
      The fountain opens depths to catch the tears.
            From tears are fashioned moon, and stars anew
            Then whispered sun, and morning's gentle dew.©

    Ruth A. Curl 3-31-2000