Not a dream

Sometimes all there is, is the fly away dream.  Some times the breath is held forever as the memories flicker. Fleeing the mind in rapid succession. Then flashes of darkness hold me tight. A soft giggle make a glimmer of hope stand out.

Still the sadness overcomes the wild, cornflower blue eyes and calm heart beats. Did I really dream of you? Or were my eyes really wide open in the midnight sky? Or really were your thoughts caressing inside my mind?

The silence of a hushed fall night. The echoing swirls of air tickle the wisps of red. Softly a touch sends fire burning, chills violently attacking. Yet I stand in the cold breeze. So empty are the walls of my soul. How bleak and distant I look but depth of me proves a different showing.

The memories, the every part of one day may be gone but the emotions rage on. In this instance such an uncontrollable force of joy triumphs every fine detail of my soul and my spirit soars from the refreshing hints.

The small treasure that is mine.

Though I forget, though I lose control I still cling, desperately, to the dreams I have. They are the hopes I long for, the reality that can happen.

Oh do not feel sad when I shake unknowingly. Do not weep when my thoughts fade to blackness, unrecovered. Do not hide from me when my sparkle dies. Oh how I fade but I am strong.

The softest of whispered speeches I make are boisterous vocals of greatness. Do I shout? No. I am there. Me. That will be enough.

Though in these moments I have no cause to remain silent. I want, hope that many will recall me. Still will you sit with me as I become the author of my story?

Indeed I did not dream you. You are here with me. I feel you.

Not a dream.