A Thin, Bright Line

Last night you came In my dreams. You were sitting on a chair And glanced sideways At me, standing.

You looked young and slightly plumb. You never were plumb, I thought in my dream, Amused.

You talked to me; kind words - And smiled gently, with warmth. Listening, I wondered happily How you had changed.

In my dream, I remember I wished, wistfully At the images beginning to fade That it wasn't a dream.

But then - As it narrowed to a thin bright line And then to a receding dot In a pitch black screen -

A dove sitting on the window sill Rose, in a flurry of wings.