Soft moccasins

A lofty idea once spread throughout my life. The tread soft across the water. Not to simply glide but a slight tremble. Sounds of girlhood dreams, now, seem silly. Still, though the dream of moccasins of doe skin and beads clings tenderly across my mind.

Case to wonder. A small child, not of naive stance just soft in love. Oh how the dream carried me throughout memories, the times of not mine. Still I  felt as though same. Gently blowing leaves swished the scenes next play. The silent rushing through the woods, caressing nature with laughter and joy.

Perhaps that is the kind reminder of doe skin moccasins. 

The levels of sighs, turns in the views across an expansion of time. Decades I have had this dream. Softness. Snow. Winter white velvet. Doe skin moccasins and beads decorating black red tresses. Funny how violet eyes blend into aquamarine.  So carefully I throw myself into a tavern, a cave of sorts.

Then I awake with heavy cold breath. No. No. I do not ask of understanding.  I just keep looking for the pieces to complete the puzzle in the next dream I have. The moments inside each, drawing the warmth inside the crisp autumn air.

This night I wake up. Still standing, still staring out as though the warmth already had found me.  Did I say of the dance, the happiness of exchanging face to face words, of the tears that stream down my face in amazement of one piece of lost time. Oh to continue would expect someone to reach out for interpretation.

Never.  Just dream. Just remember the warmth inside those doe skin moccasins.  Soft. Gentle and carried me through a great deal. Indeed a small kiss upon my memory.

Gently I walk across my threshold and find green covers, reaching and aching for one more hug to send me off to sleep.  I hope. One day to see reality of this memory. Treasured and smiles. Oh I walk, tread quietly.

Not so much a child today but I hope. Yes you will grasp just as I have. Doe skin moccasins with beads. Winter white velvet and snowflakes. Indeed the soft memories unfold.