~Esther Mitchell, 1990 ~

Without earthly thought,

I, nightly, spend this tryst,

wrapped in dreams dearly bought,

that vanish, as dawn’s ethereal mist.

Within pages unwritten,

beyond lives never lived in,

rests forbidden fruit, never bitten,

a knowledge offered but never given.

Nightly here I’ve reverently slipped,

to dance a dream’s darkness,

safe within Morpheus’ grip,

a dark jewel in palor’s starkness.

Here, beside the God of Dreams,

I am safe from harm,

a fugitive child, held so tightly,

in love’s warmth and forgotten childhood’s charm,

escaping daylight’s woes, nightly.

Here I’ve found my only home,

a dream well bought and spent,

to dance before a silver throne,

where Innocence’s veil remains unrent.

But as dawn slays the night,

so must I leave this place,

and though nightmares send all dreams to flight,

I’ll see forever Morpheus’ beloved face.


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