Sunday, August 20, 2006

My illusions

Midnight is a solemn vow
That you take to step
Into my dreams.
And the morning is my
For you are far away.
Out of the reach of my hands,
Every time I stretch out
To hold you.
A coffee cup or just air
Is what I grasp on to.
My midsummer night's dream
Bursts once more
In a soap-water bubble.
With a faint sound
That only fairies can hear.
And they cry.
I find their tears as dew drops
On the roses that I draw.
With water streaked on paper,
Glowing with the lights
From coloured candles.
Burning on like desires,
And melting like me.


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