(I wrote this, 27 Aug 2011, thinking about the end of Summer and the withering blooms in the garden, some going dormant 'til Spring's awakening, while others gone forever more, lost to Winter's regret. [dht-2011])
*** WITHERED DREAMS ***
Sober Dreams shrouded in regrets still haunt,
with ever increasing frequency,
Transported "Home" in an enduring vision –
quietly sweeping and weeping
through the passageways of my mind.
When the "Fantasy of my Love"
turns to me with a smile,
I see through the haze of my slumber,
Spring's visage of Love's Tender Care.
OH -- for a portal through which one can return,
to a Time long passed and recoup innocence lost,
to revive a Dreamer's Fantasy long ago withered.
Yet tis ever naught, after all,
but a Dreamer's Tisane, a haunting illusion.
Naught but a Withered Dream.
[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]