Spring Night's Dream

musing on a love past

Gentle spring flakes fall,
stirred by a cold breeze.
I listen to its lonely call,
through fields and bare trees.

I sit with my memories.
Not all that is past hurts,
as my mind's eye sees,
your walk and swishing skirts.

I am no text book convert
to the proper way to feel,
but I realize that flirts
don't always make love real.

I spent a quiet snowy night
alone dreaming of it all.
In the end all was right,
as flakes continued to fall.