© Steve King 2014
All Rights Reserved
Unseen through any fold of shadow,
near, yet ever out of reach—
I had hoped the one dream
might linger and appease.
But faint as a far tremor
sifting through loose sands:
the echoes of those vesper notes,
like water through my hands.
I shall reach for nearer things,
embrace them as I can.
Lost amid strange twilight times,
let all the dreams be damned.
