A Bard’s Waking Dream

I watch you as you rest to write
Uncaring of the windy night
The shadows dance in firelight
But still the dark won’t heed your sight

With quill in hand it now does seem
You slip into a waking dream
A whether sun or deep moon beam
You do not stir in fire’s gleam

So now I watch from closest place
The shadows lick your gentle face
And though I try to heed its pace
My stolen heart begins to race

I long to be that feathered quill
For you to use me at your will
To hold me when the night is still
While thoughts of prose your head doth fill

Around me slender fingers wrap
To scribe across your parchment’s map
Imagination’s key to trap
As free you twirl me in your lap

But writer’s quill I’ll never be
Sweet fingers never rest on me
Because me love; you’ll never see,
But still I’ll watch, contentedly

And hope and dream from silent hue
From heart of hearts, a wish so true
That one day hopes shall grant their due
And I shall be so loved - by you.

Bardic
January, 1998