Through fabric fold the golden rays revolve,
They rudely rouse a dreamer from her meditation.
She’s pulled to life –if life is what we call reality.
Wiping the day from her delicate eyes she sighs;
Wishing for the man’s sand to take her to her dreams once more.
But, it is not his sand, but rather his lips she dreams for;
It’s his subtle senses and his willing, trembling touch she craves.
For a moment she dreams awake
–its awareness is more accomplished than her lonely day ever could be.
And like twilight, it’s unspoiled, just for a moment, it’s perfect.
Until the birds chirped cheerful melodies that led her away;
They’re the sharp shadow in her light, stealing his memory away.
The sand is all but gone; so the day shines with an attempted remedy.
A failed potion of joy cast in the day;
All is but tedious tears to a soul roused before her dreams fruition.
So, she’ll dream again until her dream is reality,
Until her life is filled with his revolving rays.
Until those vows resolve her lonely days,
With the match of a lover’s truest kiss,
All her nights will become truer than her deepest, perfect dream.