Читать книгу Beyond All Bearing - Susan Delaney Spear - Страница 15

The trees are empty, daylight wanes.

December air hangs cold and blue.

I stand on fallow, frozen ground,

and dream fresh dreams of Earth made new.

In my dreams, I’m always warm,

and lilac petals fall like snow.

I walk a gentle path with friends

I’d lost or grieved for long ago.

In my dreams, it’s always light—

unsullied brightness never ends.

No evening shadows bring a chill;

no silent, somber dusk descends.

In my dreams, I wear no scars.

Old injuries have left no trace.

Like an oak, I stand up straight,

and as a willow, bend with grace.

But on this broken afternoon

in winter’s unforgiving cold,

promises are overdue,

and unborn dreams too great to hold.