Dream, Eclipsed

Dream Eclipsed
Verses flow in a steady stream,
or so it seems, until I wake
with a start,
part of me wondering
where the words could have gone.

Long ago, I realized
this feeling was nothing new.
Few of the images survive
those waking moments
that follow an unsettled sleep.

Keeping just a small part
of those thoughts is no small task.
Grasping for details leads nowhere,
each fading
with each passing moment.

In my dream I was writing,
this time about the moon,
more wan than blood-red,
fed by Earth’s shadow,
still fresh in my mind,
after keeping a date
late in the night
with camera and sky.

Now, photos that please me
tease me with ever-fading words.
Turning that ever-fading vision
into verse seems less likely
than any dream coming to life.



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