Faerie Dreams
In crystal raiment sentries lie in wait
like lattice-work, spills binding light in chords
to snare blank pages frayed with angst and hate.
Lone quill a languished literary sword
will hint at night's ineptitude; ignored
are tracings pooled on vellum in distress.
So rhythm's skirts still twirl unbound, abhorred
His fingers softly tap, as rain slakes slate
to fall past leaded panes that time has scored.
It drowns the sundered soul, it supplicates;
the hidden verses beg to be explored.
In silvery light he lay in wait, implored
the whispers to reside and acquiesce.
His thoughts will wander, clothed in times adored
for every tatter in her mortal dress.
More dark than raven's, sultry eyes are late;
the night recedes, and glitters in accord.
Temptation's gown of tresses bound in plaits,
the crescent light enlaced upon the sward.
Her beauty paces stars of forest's floor-
pale trillium, about her mysteries press.
Leanaan's Sidhe musings; threads to bind her lord
for every tatter in her mortal dress.
Sequestered destinies, his fate deplored.
She takes his hand, night's Faerie dreams coalesce,
his quill stirs ink-line veils to be restored
for every tatter in her mortal dress.
-Michael Dean
(Copywrite 2001)
