Soft light protrudes through a half-drawn window with curtains of lace.
In my dreams, I can feel your hands on my face.

In a dream, you left me with a kiss and tears burning my cheek
Like drips of snow, drifting like stars, whispering tales of light though cold in the bleak.

I would exchange this eater of broken souls
for a touch of braided flaxen hair not cold
But shimmers with a half-remembered dream of old

This sapphire of you and Dimond sky of blue
Now the topaz and ruby crawl from my vines of red hue
instead of through an emerald brush where it once grew.

I must be cleansed from that soft black space that kills
A firmament...