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.