Now the wind must lie down
across the river, under the trees,
and the moon will rise over town
to collect and guard our memories.
The silver globe,
silent as the walls,
offers us hope:
there is time before the morning calls.
Time for dreams
to change the way we feel,
so we will know that nothing is what it seems
and we can still make them real.
We’ll turn the mirrors to the wall,
no longer feel as if we had half a soul
or none at all,
but dream ourselves whole.
We will see beauty in a crowded street,
we’ll climb the tower,
but now the pace of our glad feet
will only quicken when they chime the hour.
The cracks in a painted face
will all be kissed,
and we’ll start over and erase
the time we missed.
-©Eva Weggelaar, November 2015-
Listen to the audio here on youtube