Dreamer

Dreamer

I dreamt last night


I dreamt I had stitched fresh white sheets to the top of my shoulder as I slept

An inch of small neat stitches

I tried to squeeze each one out of my skin

To coax it lose so as not to get blood on the pristine white fabric


I dreamt that my teacher told me he longed for love

But that he was wedded to his work

His wild Muse was too jealous to let him go

The old guard are falling, there is much to be done


I dreamt I was a tempest rushing across an ocean

Feral sea spray joining with me, weighing me down

When I reached land the release of rain

Was as sweet as a babe that has slept too long suckling my breast


I dreamt of my friend sat on a mountain side

A skeletal old broadleaf tree asleep for the winter as his only companion

He had sat there alone for too long

Taking root in the land, both wise and unmoving


I dreamt of ancient Celtic poetry so exquisite

It drove me in pursuit of ghosts of bards

On long forgotten paths through empty, wind swept wilderness

In hope of hearing it recited


I dreamt last night, on and on I dreamt



Sara Parker-Fuller