Am I Dreaming? Poem by Isadora Quagmire

Candles like mother always had,
Line the table and make it glad,
The table is spread with a cloth we've knit,
That has our joy sown into it,
Roast beef like father made,
Steams on plates beside Violet's lemonade,
On the side there might be Sunnette's stew—
Or taters and fritters that I've made too,
Fine glasses glitter with drinks delightful,
Maybe cider—or tea by the cupful,
An old track of some beautiful music is playing,
Duncan and Bella look at each other like they are eager to be dancing,
The air with happy conversation is very much alive,
Making the space seem like a peaceful—yet active like a beehive,
Our words are many—both solemn and merry,
As we speak of the comings and goings of the week and freely query,
The windows grow dim with nights coming,
But we don't care—now we are all swing-dancing,
The fireplace is much too hot by now,
As sweat beads our brows,
But we really couldn't care less,
As our hearts forget—even if only for an hour—the world's duress,
As I spin beneath my true love's arm—I study my dear family,
And all around me gladness and peace is what I see,
I almost wonder—am I dreaming?
This moment is surely only from a fairytale I'm telling,
But I am awake and it is around me weaving,
As real as the air I'm breathing,
I realize that I am dreaming yet awake,
Caught in a moment that—for now—the shadowy world cannot break.

~ Dear reader, I pray that you find some light and joy today, I wish you the best always!