For days now I've been dreaming
four separate days and nights .
Strange for me to dream like this
you'd think I'd have it right.
The dream never changes,
it's been the same each time.
Starting with the glow from the fire,
to the way your lips meet mine.
Opening vision is this wall.
A large wall that's made of stone.
Located dead in the center,
a raging fire, nearby I sit, alone
I'm dressed in a long white gown.
There's candles everywhere.
In my hands I hold a paper,
In my eyes, just a blank stare.
There's music somewhere playing,
'least I think that's what I hear.
There's a definite rhythm beating,
not just me, it's everywhere.
Then this knock sounds out loudly
startling me right to the core
This chill runs down my body
as you walk in thru the door.
Now this part seems quite silly
before me you stand in frills .
You speak to me in tongues of old
in your hand, a writing quill
'Neath your arm you carry a journal.
There's a sword strapped to your side.
Though I know not what you're saying,
unmistakable, the look in your eyes.
Then suddenly,this aroma,
a cross between fruit and spice.
To me it's vaguely familiar,
exciting, both fire and ice !
You hand to me this goblet,
you stare into my eyes.
As you encourage me to drink ,
your face wet with tears you cried .
You take my face into your hands,
your eyes see to my soul.
With our lips nearly touching,
you whisper soft and low.
Try as I may I can't hear you,
or somehow I don't understand.
You smile at me with those green eyes,
and point to the page in my hand.
As my eyes focus upon it,
the paper comes to life.
There within these same four walls
stood us in another life.
Your arms were wrapped around me.
Your lips were pressed to mine.
Our bodies were joined together,
but another place, in time
As I look up from the paper,
suddenly I feel a chill.
As I slowly look around me
I see a bird ,upon the sill.
As he flies off, a breeze is blowing,
the page is taken from my hand.
It flutters into the fire,
and there I am......alone again...