Last night I dreamt I hung in the clouds Adrift a silver dream
I could see our yesterdays Laid out below me, Stalks beneath a black screen.
They have burned, Those dreams I had before Distant fragments, broken screams.
I floated by them Distant and content Hanging on a silver string.
I have though I had nothing left To give to you, wrapped up In colorful paper and silver streams
But clouds remind me I give you peace and with it I paint you silver wings.
Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. — Maxwell Bodenheim
Christina Ward is a poet and aspiring author working on her first book, a piece of literary, mainstream fiction. She is a columnist for the Observer News Enterprise newspaper. She earned her Bachelor of Science from Catawba College in Environmental Science, which greatly influences her work. She also studied creative writing and English at Catawba. Her poetry has been published in the Cameo literary magazine, the Arrowhead literary magazine, Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine, and in Wolff Poetry Literary Magazine. She was also a featured poet here: https://wolffpoetry.com