Dreamer
      by Sarah Elizabeth Hume


  Where have you gone my love?
  Perhaps you are where the ravens call
  in empty fields of sullen grasses,
  dry and gold as desert sand.

  I believe you are drifting at water's edge,
  slipping through like crystal rain,
  through pallid fingers cold and empty.

  I know you have gone with eventide
  turned to ebony threads of night,
  woven so tightly within the sky
  beyond my eyes,
  beyond all shades of flowering light.

  Where now you tarry,
  I do not know,
  or whether you bed in straw or down.
  I do not know what cloth shields you
  or if you prayers hold me as well.

  But still I follow,
  my lips pressed hard against the frosted glass
  as you trickle down the thick pane,
  gliding upon every drop of weeping rain.

  You are everywhere to me.