How,

in dream,

can I know you?

With your eyes,

concentric rings

of brown and

blue chasing

‘round a pupil

so clear and

dark?

In dream,

so clearly

I see you clad

in silver starlight;

platinum hair,

a cascade that waves

about your shoulders

in halo.

You,

of the High Tower,

so utterly familiar

as a part of his

life,

not mine

(though here, now,

he knows you

not at all)

while in my

wakened state,

I reflect that

I have never,

ever

set eyes

on anyone

remotely like

you.

Surely,

I would

remember…

 

 

— C.Birde, 4/20