Reaching inside, thru the mist
swirling with possibilities
created with delight.
Almost touchable this cloud
grasping at imagination
nearly out of sight.
Faithful, dear companion
Grey of muzzle, wagging
kisses offered hand.
Grasping at intangible
images squeezing thru
empty, aching fingers
Seemingly; dancing on breeze
love overflows her bouquet
petals forever carpeting.
Brilliant rose petal caught
tumbling, forever afloat
quotes the famous poem.
The mists of memory?
dreams or imagination?
makings of death or life?
Remaining; always fragments
could have been, once was
nearly out of sight.
(11200103) Copyright © 10/15/2006 Daniel James Burt
