Fleeting Dream
The sun spreads soft color across the new day.
Upon waking I reach for my pen,
to capture upon a blank page of my journal,
a bit dusty, from being left under the bed,
my abstract thoughts, fading quickly,
from within my fleeting dream.
I try to conjure back the images.
To bring once again to life, its conception,
as it winds a twisted path out of existence.
Pictures flash, slightly tattered around the edges.
Faint voices call out, barely above a whisper,
yet through the misty darkness, I hear them echo.
Remembering tears that left me,
like raindrops cascading during a storm,
that had traced faint rivers upon my skin.
I felt I had been left trembling in the chill wind,
shivering before a distant flickering firelight.
A bareness to my soul had been revealed, I had not expected.
My journal received no words of thought that day.
No need to hinder my future thought process,
with the writing down of uncompromising dreams.
I shoved the journal back under my bed,
to gather a bit more dust,
tossing the pen in behind it.
Shay White
Copyright 2008 All Rights Reserved
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