I lost myself in a dream last night
In which a memory danced its way
Through hazy distortions of truths
Never rendered, words never spoken
And places never seen, though I
Knew well the players that awaited
Me there, as is often the way of such
Things in that twilight world.
She danced beneath an old willow tree,
Always a willow tree when that mystic
Eye turns her way, looks inward towards
Her place in the fabric of times now past but
Not forgotten, a complicated tapestry of
Shadowed yesterdays woven together in
An abstract pattern that stitched itself across
My heart with broken needles of regret.
Ghostlike she seemed beneath that lonely
Tree, spinning to and fro in a field of mist
But never moving beyond those hanging
Limbs, their burden the weight of years
Gone by as they swayed in retrospect to
A song that only I could hear, in a voice
That was hers alone but lost to me now
In the silent crescendo of time.