A Poem about a Dream

Characters, plot, and play within
my weary mind, filtering
out all but one
simple image, with which
to fall in love.

Sleeping, still, alive
and dead, lying, quiet
beneath the blue sheen,
deepest water holding,
bearing her pale face.

Snowfalls silent in
my timeless dream, cold
but not, alone but not.
I stop and study her
fragile form,

beyond my reach, beneath the stars
within my dream; I sit at the edge,
I peer through the glass,
and I wait for her
to open her eyes.

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