Fast Poem: #14 She Waits in a Garden of Snow with Candles of Ice

I do not think I dreamed this dream before,
yet I find traces recorded
in journals,
poems
and stories;
in logs penned while quietly sitting;
sleepy strokes of meditative hand;
capturing words dictated from some strange place
by a voice less material than I.

In the dream,
in the writing
sleeps warning:
Do not seek to kiss.
Muse;
blonde, blue-eyed seductress,
face as white as driven snow heart as cold siren,
ethereal,
hovering near enough to hear
fingers key-tapping,
nib on page dancing.

Search the Earth
to find and touch,
invoke her crossing to corporeal you,
kiss her blue lips
and she will freeze your soul
for betraying her so.

Flirt and sass,
ache with lust
sing and drink and laugh
but suppress til death the desire to caress,
or lose a soul to love with.

© 2008 Chrome Poet
Originally posted November 4, 2008. Re-posted with edits

© 2008-2012 Chromia Poetics