I touched upon a dream perfectly choreographic
as a ballet troupe of sardines avoiding predators.
A dance where no one applauds and everyone
is a loser, sad except for the mysterious beauty
of shimmering silver in a bottle-green ocean.
I touched upon a dream sparkling as fizzy wine
bobbles clung to cool glass disappearing with
plop - a momentarily rush of happiness - murmur
of voices; then the wine was still, yet for a second
the mysterious wonder is remembered.
I touched upon a dream cold as a winter forest,
blue, frosty mist wrapped around trees; layers
of snow on the lake of recollection, but one day
a mysterious flash; and all will be remembered.
