Misty-eyed Morning
I stopped to capture
a picture of the sunset’s dress
traipsing through my last dream
Wanting to rip
a small sample
from her hemline
Of too many pinks
dangling from lazily sloping trees
wishing to sip the river
Swaying
into a breeze
whispering of spring
Greens and violets leapt
up, trying to compete with the sky,
but she decided
She needed each shade
for herself, and tried them all on
as an orb-weaver
Nimbly wrapped supper
into a glistening bauble
with her forever legs
Suspending
us between days
of shifting sands
I stood, riveted with veneration
as she whooshed away, and
awoke in blurry photos
Understood
only by me
Wishing to share with you,
but some moments are best
witnessed with a misty-eyed lens
This was my last dream before waking. I’d share it with you if I could… The beautiful photo above picture is pretty darned close.
