Dappled Dawn

Dawn breaks like a tea cup.
Dribbling dabs of sunlight
Across the white damask counterpane
Waking me gently from a troubled sleep.

I swing my legs out of bed
And my bare feet tap tap tap
Like a blind man’s cane
In search of my old, worn sheepskin slippers
But come into contact instead with cool, smooth satin.

Slipping my feet into the mules, bemused,
I take a kimono robe from the bench at the end
Of the four poster canopy bed, and cinching the sash,
Begin to make an effort to think a little more clearly.

This must be a lucid dream, I realize.
Afraid to break the spell and end up back in my own bed
Before I have seen where this dream may lead me,
I push away all logic and surrender completely to the fantasy!

Walking to the French windows, I look out on a stately lawn
Blanketed by a thick mist which has settled heavily during the night
But is now rising like a theater curtain, exposing marble statues
Standing like actors on their marks, frozen in time.
But wait!
As the sun hits them, they come to life!
Moving sluggishly at first,
But gradually becoming aware of their surroundings
And each other
And finally me!

They beckon!
I open the glass doors
And go to them.

Silently, they lead me into the forest behind the estate.
We stand among the trees and they suddenly freeze.
For a moment, I believe that life has left them
And I am alone with no way to find my way home
But then I see what has caused them to stop and stand erect.

A unicorn has appeared in a clearing.
He commands their respect.
As well he should – jet black and resplendent
With silver hooves and a golden horn
And eyes like sapphires, locked on mine!

He charges!
I stand firm.
He stomps and rears.
I show no fear.
He circles me.
My eyes stay steady, focused straight ahead.

He snorts!
I smile.
He nudges me with his nose.
I reach out and stroke his mane.

He kneels!
I mount him

He begins to walk,
Then trot,
Then gallop!
Then fly!

We glide through the sky!
We circle high above the forest!
I look down on the statues still standing there,
Now saluting me.

We fly higher
And higher
Until we get lost in the clouds.
And there he whispers to me a secret.

Which unfortunately,
I will never remember.
Because at that very moment
I wake up.

And swing my legs over the side of the bed
And tap tap tap for my slippers
And feel hard, cold wooden clogs...

by Suzanne Hayasaki

Comments (1)

Impressive work, , from onset to close-out...Your metaphoric play is as astute as your ostensibly natural ability for mellifluous structural movement....Stellar overall craftsmanship, indeed...~FjR~