October 31, 2002

• enchantment rises
  mist from an ancient lake
  subtle spell worked
  by crafty fingers

  
  

  reaching up inside
  clouding the present I
  with shades of a
  remembered self

  
  

  I hear the sound
  smell the tang, of sweat
  and sour and sweet
  lump in my throat
  
  through soft fog
  new shapes appear
  written over old shadows
  wishes and pleas

  
  

  Don't remember that I was
  Remember as I wish I were.

  
  

   

  • 11:42 pm
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