But For a Moment.

But For a Moment...


Broth by fork,
capturing a breeze
in a butterfly net,
or stopping a snowflake
from melting in my hand:
as much chance had I
to grasp the elusive
for more than mere moments.
Yet, I held tightly to the sound of his
Scots accent reading John Donne
(he could have been reading
the phone book, actually)
and fell asleep to dream
the of the improbable, the impossible.

My Hawke, who flew with me,
who taught me to soar
nested far, oceans away far,
and my wings did naught
but feather my fall.
Yet, still, I yearned
for 'not to be'
and flew into the sun.
Blinded by brilliance
yet cannot say I was burned
for his flame was never mine
to fuel. Time-crossed,
we met in an imaginary world
with no safety net.

Real time, once invited to soar for real
across Atlantic waters,
to explore the glorious
castles. Ever my prince, he and I
spent three weeks in the
Land of Let's Pretend.
Dragon flew but we hid in
abandoned dungeons.
We could have incinerated ourselves
but chose the higher road,
keeping the illusion, knowing
not to cross the Bridge of Nevermore.
Spark still flames in hidden grate:
never to be fanned, yet never turning to ash.