I Dream Of Rising In The Mist
I dreamed of flying
each breath released a gentle sigh
as gossamer wings lift
in surrender to the summer breeze.
I blinked and held a brush,
a long, black wand,
the tip as soft as eyelashes.
My arm breathes color
as an image drifts into the space.
A shape rises to the surface
through the fog and mist.
You appear in sacred form
and say
fly with me.
If you enjoyed this poem, have a look at my book, We Swallow Light. It’s an exploration of events in a past life and a refreshing take on overcoming pain and the joy of finding love.
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Such a beautiful poem, the last 3 wrap up lines lifted me up