Grand Tales & Conversations

In mine dreams, thy face lingers …

Thou art a Knight who defeats
the monsters lurking in nightmares.
Upon trusted steed with sword
ready, held high … thy battle cry
goes out in warning to all who
dare cross thee.

A prima ballerina am I, and thou
art mine counterpart, Michael
Baryshnikov, as we dance Swan
Lake like pros. Thy touch is
gentle as I pirouette and grand
plie to arabesque next to thee.

Daydreams give comfort to the soul …

As I converse with thee, rhetoric of
all that encompasses life. From the
great philosophers to the lowest of
poets. Discussions that never end,
until reality snaps me back, that is.

If only I could see thy smile …

Art thou merely an invisible friend?
Or doth thee linger in night time
fantasies where dragons are slain
and maidens are rescued by dashing
knights …

I weep for what emotions linger within me …
I dare not risk all for nothing, for what I have
means too much to lose to regret.

But, I still find myself wondering …

No answers to mine questions come,
yet thy voice, in daylight hour has
seemingly grown numb. I wish to
reach out and touch thy hair, smile
and wash away all of thy despair.

Thou art mine Knight in dreams …
If only in reality such a Knight could
rescue me …