The dew awaited
My arrival
Upon the first
Peek of morning
Looking like
A sea of
Diamonds
And crystals
Strewn about
By the Dwarves
Of the deep mountains,
But really
Were more like
The tears of the
Heavenly stars
Left over
From the cover
Of night's sorrow.
If only that fragile
Beauty could last
A little longer,
As the fingers
Of the sun king
Kisses the liquid
Jewels left
Like decorations
On the green
Grass
And delicate
Webs of the
Master weavers
Of fate,
As the steam
Rises,
And the dew
Fades,
Steaming to
Fog the day
As it rises
Forgetting
The dreams left
By the faery Kings
And queens
Of the forest night.
But as my covered
Feet crushed the
Dew beneath
My feet,
Soaking
The evergreen
Leather of my boots
Chilling my toes
With the death
Of every bead
On bladed grass,
I skipped merrily
Like a child
Toppling blocks
In an imaginary
City…
I giggled
And could swear
That I heard
Tiny laughs
From the edge
Of the trees
Just beyond
The meadow.
Now that
They have planted
The grass
And it has
Finally grown
Tall enough
To collect
The dew of heaven
I know now,
That the tears
Left by the
Night
Were my own
Tears,
For every regret
I left with
My mortal coil
Beneath the fertile
Soil was
For every thing
I wish I had
To courage
To do
And did not.
