Dawn (II)

Methinks I’ll let myself now sleep,
In warmth of memories, dark and deep,
Feigning mildness, feigning death,
Gulping slow with languid breath.

From mahogany dark and old,
A scent arose, so soft and cold,
Extinguished thoughts, dimmed the light,
In depths of sleep, lost from sight.

Yet in the deepest of dreams, I found
The sea and cliffs where waves resound,
Fireflies pass through bushes bright,
The whispers of wishes ‘n the night.

A moment brief, two lives entwined,
Awoke me then, me hands confined,
Chilled and trembling, head held high
In your portrait’s watchful eye,

And what is left at dawn’s first ray?
A moat of sand, a fleeting day,
A paper plane adrift in flight,
A Monet on a napkin’s white.