The Dream
The dream of youth
no longer has hold over me.
Like the seconds and hours of time
it has faded, fastidious, fragile and forgotten.
Were it to return from abandonment,
age and memory will distort, fracture and splinter,
its purpose proposed, tenuous, a long lost delight purged
in some imagined vision of lethargic sleepiness.
Let me rest in these illusions,
give me a moment, an hour to fall in trance, serene, peaceful,
greeting the darkening obscurity that grows and grips
a wayfaring stupor to accompany the night invisble.
Soothe and calm the images hazed into clarity
where some illusive yearning can thrive and grow
and it will take hold again
my dream, the fog of forever loving you.
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