Onyx Dream

I dreamed a black; an onyx lake before the sun’s first dawning rays its surface marble smooth and makes no sound without the warmth of day I saw myself; a ghost it seemed stripped naked on the grassy floor beneath the waning moon’s cold beams just staring at the other shore From far away a whip-poor-will called lonely, just a sleepy song it tickled in the morning chill and broke the water’s pull – so strong to slip into that silent space where never lived a false love’s face