Keeper of the Star

 

 

 

 

 

To Walk A Dream Again

A silky mist of fantasy
flit daily through her thought,
unnamed in her reality,
still won the wars she fought.

A wispy cloud that held the truth
quiescent in her soul,
unseen and yet in silence soothed
a faith of being whole.

Then all the dream she never spoke
one day reached for her hand
and woman deep inside awoke
as fate broke silky band.

The swirling mist that flit her mind
blew clear the blazing light
the whispered dream concrete defined
the hope a lantern bright.

She wrote to him reality
spoke honest from her heart
drew lives for them of fantasy
in metaphors of art.

A Lady and a Knight they were
he walked with her by choice
where honor let him cherish her
his strength her inner voice.

But gardens they would nightly share
and beaches they would stroll,
and stars he brought to light dreams fair
fell prey to life's cruel toll.

A mother's death, a birthing grief
a blackness rived of hope,
a tree that bares a single leaf,
an anguish beyond scope.

In starkness of reality
she turned to him for care,
then saw all was just fantasy
her Knight had left her there.

Insanity of need and fear,
grief filled the soul of her,
until she saw the future clear
and ran from what they were.

Outside the dream, a question shy,
"Please, talk with me sometimes?"
reads disdain in his reply,
yet needs some tie that binds.

What friendship will in desert grow
if no one tends the bed,
What hope-filled dreams could she now sow
had he dried her tears instead?

So now there is no fantasy
to flit soft in her mind,
no wispy hope of mystery
to speak to love that binds.

Though one day she may walk again
with he who brought her stars
it's only as a dream of then
and never what they are.©

RAC  February, 8, 2000

          

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