MEMORY OF A DREAM
Where the moon was only sliversThrough trees, like golden rivers
Of light on his face.
Where the night alone was witness
To the birth of two faint voices
That cried Freedom, Grace.
On a hill that cradled dreamers,
Under stars calling us to adventures,
There was me, and there was him.
In a hammock on a mountain
Moon-kissed I, there shivering,
Awoke... and met my dream.
