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.