Jasmine Bud

She came last night Lay right on this bed The wind outside my window Paused its impatient rustle She slept and dreamed Soft and cool Her eyes were dew drops Closed and guarded By dense black lashes Who could venture What she saw Inside there In that prismatic vibgyor Unearthly images that could be An envy even for angels heavenly She slept like a figurine Chiseled out of the mist The curls of her tresses The moon cautiously fondled Pouring herself like liquid Through undulating curtain slits I sat by her side On nightlong vigil Moving not lest she awakes In total adoration Absorbed in delight Till I heard the chirps By when she had been gone Dissolved like morning mist Vanished in thin air Was that a dream? I can’t figure Yet, there is this jasmine bud Left on the bed Proof for a dream that was real That had just passed Pouring sadness in the heart Oh, what is real and unreal? I dare not touch the bud Lest it too vanishes From my flimsy hold Wonted all the time to losses alone