Dreams

PLEASE send all comments to Karen Burrows at: dci@planet.eon.net

Wings
Beat at the
Gentle night air.
In harmony
They soar,
A perfect pair.
The moon
Drawing them in
Like moths
To a flame.
They drift
And turn
In unison,
Together again.
Then
She wakes.
Long-kept hopes are dashed.
And a tear
Glistens
Briefly
On her cheek
As she
Mourns
Her
Loss.
And the
Pain
Is
Still
Fresh.

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