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Sheri Walters

Rookie (Richmond, VA)

The Dream


Upon the garden path I tread,
Through the shadows I am led;

'Come to me' a voice did say,
'Follow the path, it will lead the way';

I follow that voice, so faint, so far,
I walk the path beneath the stars;

And there beyond the moonlit trees,
The bane of my mortality;

A figure so gallant, so fine, so fair,
Only the stars in Heaven compare;

Yet so still, so cold, of granite stone,
A creature not made of flesh and bone;

So silently I touch him pleading,
But so hard, so chill, his angel's wings;

No warmth, no life doth he possess,
No sight, no breath or raven tress;

So with a tear of unknown bliss,
I kiss the dew upon his lips;

A childish fancy it dost seem,
All was naught but a wistful dream;

A weighted heart with my breast,
I lay my head upon his chest;

And with a solemn breath I sigh,
For morning light approaches nigh;

'Vision of beauty, vision of grace,
Hold me close in Heaven's embrace';

I give a quiet sob of grief,
As teardrops fall about my feet;

A lament so sad, so full of woe,
A visage of sorrow is all I foreknow...

Submitted: Thursday, July 31, 2003

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