Fragile Awakenings - by Dawn Cowan

Love is a slow dance
lost in the music of time
whispered in glances

Life is a mirror
reflections of yesterday
embrace unborn dreams

Lullaby tearsongs
sweet serenade of heartbeats
swaying in exhales

Fragile is a tear
cradled in awakened smiles
prismed in your touch.

.."and when you find you're spending your time wanting for words, but never speak...my, my, my...let your bright light shine, let your words live on far beyond this life....far beyond this life"...(Rob Thomas)

The repercussions of your whispers
folded in auburn creases
between satin tangled corners
where sighs were lost beneath the epiphany of prayers....
So lonely beside the apparitions of your last goodnight kiss,
I curl into the echoes
breathe in the essence
of a orchid fragranced daybreak
as the sunlight traces my skin
in an angel's last rites,
tangled in the song of your heartbeat,
igniting my existence in a fire
that burns away the desolate hours
awaiting in those lost shadows of "goodbye"


Our life is the voice of prismed Gardens of Gestheme
of smiles and tears
loneliness and survival
as we become the rainbows beyond the storms we endure
there is a lullaby
so softly it hums in the sighs beyond our yearnings
as we dream to rise above the colors of ache
above and beyond the tears that glisten in the aftermath
of the stillness that clings, like a child, to the security of a tattered teddy bear
in an unmerciful night of uncertainty
we awaken to the fragile kiss of an unborn morning
playing peek-a-boo behind cirrus clouds of an imprisoned temple,
we soar upon the kitestrings of nostalgia and fairytales,
rewriting the poetry every winter scintillates
beyond emerald garden remembrances,
redefining the coveted corners
of our midnight deluge

In an opulent surrender,
She sears incandescently,
Dangling from crescents final immaculate gleam,
beneath clinched knuckles, holding on so tightly,
because we know
....we know...
if we ever let go
we will fall into the winds of yesterday
and tomorrow will fade into the whirlwind spiral
of everything that
...could have...
...should have...
...might have...
been

And every fabled breath we've felt beneath the wings of our souls
has carried our love above the fate of sandcastles that sway
in tides of a river's embrace

There are moments, still
When that forgotten little girl
left along the sidelines of this journey
so long before she was found
in that relentless game of "hide and seek"
she haunts me in canopy of nighttides
..as the woman sheds a tear at her headstone...
The Raven ascends beyond the memory
and the hours and tears that gave birth to her wings
becomes the Phoenix that unravels her prophecy,
the oracle of her strength
...the myths of her longing, cradled in the pause of a Nightingale's unspoken crave....

I swallow these tears
and spill them into an ink
brailled in sutures that silence the scars
beneath the dog-eared corners of paper dream testimonies
discovered in the ashes of a forgotten voice
sifted from ageless granules of heart's truth
a violin's percussion
orchestrated in revelations of Brahm's restless rain,
I will dance upon that hymnal
in exhales
"soft and hushed in a wonderland of unspoken understanding"
and we become all that is never spoken
in the glance of eyes
in the art of touch
in the inhalation of a kiss exchanged in the ache of lips
that whisper
"Sweet Dreams, I Love You"
so many miles between my pillow and yours
so few breaths between your exhales and mine
and life is a wall of distance
that steals your touch from dreams
yet those dreams become the bridge
that unites us eternally
as I rest my heart upon your pillow
softly drowning in this unmade bed
lost in the satin silhouette
of you.

I breathe in the cinnamon of a mocha morning sunrise
drenched in the blur of nighttide's last kiss,
swayed in dandelion's silkspun breezes,
swallowing moon-stirred wishes of your name
beyond the dangling echoes
of finite and infinite

The ebon flutter of tiffany whispers
lassoed in the curve of tick-tock hands
softly wrapped around jagged edges
of yesterday's spiralling dreams,
free-falling into time's prophetic vortex
of love's afterglow,
so softly nestled in our vision of an unbridled Elysium,
where I lay, singed, in the aftermath
of a parted resurrection
stolen beneath fragments of parched farewells
cupped in the hands of lonely-draped Autumns,
a lost season beyond the hearts midnight addictions


The velvet quietude of firefly fairytales,
ageless as Pan,
captured in silhouetted REM's
so delicately perched upon unhinged fingertips
weary from the clasp of prayers,
unaware of the aftertaste of cocoon silk
spilled in a watercolor ritual
stained in the cirrus silence of
this star-shimmered cadence,
raining upon the parasol of night's eyes,
as the shades of stilled droplets are brailled
upon the ardent reign of this Percussion's Grail
the fragrance of wildflowers pirouette
in a feather-down rhapsody upon windswept covenants
where paper dreams are bookmarked
in twilight's last exhale,
as Cinderella slippers ache
to dance beyond the myth,
rewriting every driftwood epiphany
in the pause of each breath held
between the scars of band-aided heartbreaks
and the windchimes of fragile omens,
as raindrops spill upon broken petals
slumbering in a distance beyond
tear-smeared rainbows that faded into gray,
where I prayed for the colors of you
...to redefine me...

I drifted into those sacred realms,
escaping as Van Winkle slept,
running barefoot through our taffeta-flower's song,
leaving winter behind in Snow White fantasies,
as your wings became the real
I had spent my life in search of,
a poetry that writes me
in a soul's ink that bleeds into my verses,
and completes the silence hummed from the voice of my heart,
fingertraced from the pages of an unborn Neverland,
now awakened in cascading memories
predestined in the chapters of your love,
once upon a time

....once upon a time....

a little girl dreaming of butterflies and daisies,
now holding onto the kitestrings
of life's most precious gift,
found within the winds of your heart and mine,
my own wings spread, unafraid,
I'm standing upon the ledge of your heart,
as the haze of OZ unveils the illusive yellow-brick road

...and I know....

...I know....


I will always...know......

There is no place like home,

and home is where I'm curled
in the refuge of You,
as ribbons of time's Emerald City unfold
into this Wonderland Storybook of US,
and, life is but a dream,

...life is but a dream...

come true