A dream awake
Time of winter storms, and snows, and rains, and fogs.
And footprints leading into swollen coastal sand.
Just close your eyes over a letter from a living novel,
Time, louder than surf, pounds on palm and temple.
And through rustles, through whispers, through the hiss of endless rain,
a quiet voice, hovering like a butterfly in d;j; vu,
responds with an echo: waking, I feel again
your departure into this dream. . .
But now this dream is awake.
Свидетельство о публикации №125060101707