microscopic muses

  Every night you visit your dreams And live their lives While still not believing  They are yours

                                                 Love came and found me                                                  Hiding in a dark corner                                                   Broken memory

  The White Birds I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!  We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;  And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,  Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die. A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;  Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,  Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:  For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you! I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,  Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;  Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,  Were we only white birds, my beloved,  buoyed out on the foam of the sea!

                       Selfish tears                      (unappreciated)                    Wasted years  

Words that are (my) breaths Breaths that are (my) words, breathing (Picture pinched from the ‘net’ (as I am not clever enough to do such))

    To grow unconventionally  To be perceived peculiar    But ……. to breathe unrestrained 

  Spring stepping in Resurrecting the dead Breathing her breath *through our garden*

While trying to save them  They drown In your thoughts

  A dying love A love that wilts; then dies *a love left unattended  *