Dream
B
Barry Middleton
0
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I stole a little piece of day
the world was sleeping through
to watch a mist of fog transform
my neighbor's lawn to fantasy.
I heard the dawn's enchanted
birds, sweet incantations
to pass the spell along,
the dream we claim is real.
The blackened sky
turns nearly white
before the baby blue
and girlish pink
gives up to surer blue
and time to think.
How hard it is
for me to hold
to grief in the dawn,
for dawn is a mirage
of what might be.
And yet how easy
it can be
to forsake hope,
to nourish a sorrow
with the chimera
of yesterday.
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