Tuesday, May 28, 2013
I dream of memories, soft as a rose's touch, that does not wilt at the very breath of fog.
I dream of an evening, of the sinking sun that colours the sky as it does my life.
I dream of the wind, the soft shaving of the skin to brush away the pain.
I dream of ashes, and of dust, of lightness and of dark, a drought of love that floods in emotions.
Of rhyme and reason, harmonious as can be, hands and fates intertwined.
I dream of stars that bright shinely, of moons that crescent well, of the sand that floats forever more.
I dream a dream that could never be.