Last night I dreamed
She turned from the window
The sun touched lips, the sun drenched hair,
And she spoke to me, softly,
I could not hear the words
But I could see her lips moving.
The morning came and I went to the window I dreamed of,
I looked out at the garden and the ocean beyond.
White waves on a blue ocean.
When she was here with me,
I would walk all day
And make up stories to tell her at night.
One day she told me she didn’t like the story I had told,
The woman in the story was too beautiful
And that made her sad.
She was gone the next day.
She had tied a red scarf to the apple tree by the gate,
It whipped in the wind
Like the bloody standard of a defeated army.