Sometimes the darkness
comes, like fog
thick and swollen with shadows.
A place where words
become hollow and empty
as our day time world
is swallowed whole,
like a sword in the circus.
This is the core
of illusions birth.
That secret place in memory
where little Hansel and Gretel
escaped their wicked witch
in that last hungry hour
with nothing more
than a bony finger
and a lucky shove.
That memory where lost love
frolics in a world of fantasy.
A world where yesterday, today
and tomorrow wait unbroken,
willful illusions without darkness
where love's first kiss
lays sweet on lips
forever.