The dream of a flower Often, these days, I find myself thinking about a flower I dream about it at night, even in the daytime It calls out to me, draws me in A mermaid, calling my ship onto the reef A promise made to be broken, forgotten With a sigh, I admit my futility My art, so full of longing and dreams will yield me no more of the treasures of life. Again, I am cast out into the storm, out of the oasis, to walk through the blizzard alone. Suddenly I awake from my slumber I feel the night air on my face, the ghostly remainder of your warm embrace. I close my hand and suddenly I remember the rose One by one I pull the thorns from my hand and put them on my dresser just before I wake up again.