At the edge of the clearing, I saw her standing in the shade. The sunlight danced on the wildflowers just beyond her reach. She was beautiful even though her curls were tangled. I wondered to myself if she was lost. It was very possible, but perhaps I was too quick to assume. Maybe she belonged. Maybe this was her home. There was a chance I was the one lost. The wind moved the leaves above her head, and she lifted her dusty face toward the green canopy which shaded her delicate frame. I watched as her lips moved, too far away to hear. I was intrigued in her trance, and I held my breath as she took two steps forward into the clearing. This is when the rain began. I struggled to stand my ground.

Recollection of a sleeping dream
originally submitted: April 22,2004