The dream of a flower

Often, these days, I find myself thinking about a flower

I dream about it at night, even in the daytime

It calls out to me, draws me in

A mermaid, calling my ship onto the reef

A promise made to be broken, forgotten

With a sigh, I admit my futility

My art, so full of longing and dreams

will yield me no more of the treasures of life.

Again, I am cast out into the storm, out of the oasis,

to walk through the blizzard alone.

Suddenly I awake from my slumber

I feel the night air on my face,

the ghostly remainder of your warm embrace.

I close my hand and suddenly I remember the rose

One by one I pull the thorns from my hand

and put them on my dresser

just before I wake up again.