A Dream Poem by Heather Marie Mortimer

O'er thickly laid dewdrops,
Holding moon in their face.
Under bright, polished stars;
I am home in this place.
Where my bed lay, I see not;
And nor do I care.
When this orb'd delight,
Coax my dreams, softly-fair.

Where nothing I see,
Can afford garish disgrace.
Save gentle sparks of a shimmer,
Dancing moonbeams, you grace!
Whether o'er a puddle,
Or the oceans so great.
Or rest on my own orbs,
Opening to my sight fate.

In this, others speak bitterly;
Of darkness and pain.
Tho they sense not your comfort;
Woeful passion your gain.
Gentle romance your speech;
Tender 'brace be your form.
Heady soft flow your scent;
'Tis not so of the morn!

And the magic you twist
In your soft-spoken breeze
Sweeps me up from my feet
Travels to you with ease.
And my soul no longer stay
In its station'd universe
For I see with your sight,
See inconstancy, my curse!

Yet my soul is as constant
As constancy be
Where a soul I met here
In my dark revelry.
And in blackness we see not
Which soul is to which
So we meld here together
Tho no signs of this stitch.

Do these stars offer light
To your face in mine eye?
Is your beauty no more
Than the grace of the sky?
Yet in sunbeams I've seen you
And my heart still undone
Tis in darkness I kiss you-
Known both hearts here as one.