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.