Holding a dream

Beyond the knotty roots of age old trees
on the banks of damp soil
she sits, staring, mesmerized
her eyes transfixed
– that steely moon gleamed
her breath held in her throat
a hand clutching her tightening chest
– she had forever dreamed this
to hold the moon asunder
her every breath and ever pore,
every waking morrow
– that moon in the mirrored lake teased
sending tiny ripples
of desperate hope cascading
her tender dreams caught in the web
sticky gossamers fastening
– pinned, weighed down, or dragged
bleary eyed down a path
– and there she was, finally
the cold watery folds gently calling
she reached her arm towards the moon
– the moon on the water so close
and for briefest of moments she felt the weight
nestled in her trembling hand
feeling the veil breaking
that had covered the dream
her wee little dream
– not for this world, no
but for the moon that had teased
sending her mad and reeling
at the impossibility.

She held her dream
– and breathed.

(I had to write this after quite an exciting day! 🙂 )

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