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Old Dream

Midnight,
the bright moon reflects
on the snow; silver,
gold, blue and white
In the dust of a memory
your name autographs
another dream on my pillow

Deborah Russell

Couriers

You and I lost among a thousand sighs
in this earth of secondary heavens –
sky suspended dreams; nothing remains
but shadows unsubstantial and this dust
of things that memory refuses to  release
Who, but I, would love you, to the very
death of love?
We dabbled in the blue and red of blood
and the white of truth…Stars afire with
our passion - distinct with breath and
tenderness, were we but famished for
complexion ?. . .
Lips and kisses that drown the wind,
you and I and all our sin
Couriers -  heart wings cut the
mirror’s future, shattered - all the
things, we thought had mattered . . .
Our soul’s unrest, now the howling storm;
a wind torn beach, this lower earth where
love is a downward smoke burned to ashes
Nothing left inside, but this piercing
pain of bitter sweet, the taste of memory.

Deborah Russell, © 2006

(for one that I might have missed)