I.
though the hour is late it seems early
but my chamber is empty tonight
i've no one to hold nor
in light wings enfold nor
an angel to join me in flight

II.
though time is a lace veil of changes
and touch is the hallmark of dreams
i play the game straight-faced
outstripped and outpaced
by fickleness, frailty, esteem

III.
the dreamers who love speculation
will often take time to reflect
on the ways of the soul
and the meaning of whole
and embrace the parts others reject

IV.
i once knew a victim of sorrow
her manners were cold and precise
her love was intense
she was often incensed
i loved her once, i could love her twice

V.
the tree i climbed when i was ten
was tall and wide and soft and green
the branches low
they beckoned so
i climbed it