Why do you come to me in dreams

you appear in my sleep without notice

your image glassy like heat off a flame

burning my eyes with tears always the result

You’re always just a little out of reach

early this morning you stood across the channel

on the sloping bank with the fading night sky behind you

I wanted to scream that bank will crumble it rained last night

You died when I was so young; I’ve needed you so many times since

at times I wake not fully remembering these dreams

the impression of you lingers in the recesses of my memory

it’s at these times I miss you the most when I search my mind for bits of you

I slip into the cold black waters of the channel and make my way to you

my strokes quick and effortless I’m focused only on you

the distance covered without much exertion

reaching the bank walking up the slop feet sinking into soften earth

In the approaching dawn light the bank is empty

the spot where you stood is bare

I look around and you’re no where to be found

I want to scream but my jaw is trembling from cold

I look down and the spot where I saw you is free of prints

but for a single white wild swamp rose gently placed on the earth

I stare at it, how did it get here where did it come from

there are no wild swamp rose bushes anywhere on this bank

I bend down and collect it gently with care I rinse the bloom

placing it on my tongue like a communion wafer

swimming back to the dock a little slower this time

for my heart is heavy with longing and sadness

Rinsing the delicate bloom once more

walking into the cottage and finding the book

placing the swamp rose between the pages

with the others I’ve collected over the years

image courtesy of ontariowildflowers.com