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Fields of Dew

A cloudy wool pulled over the edges,
blurred vision but clear as water.
The feeling unreal, but still all there
The dark curls, twisted, like life,
draping down on the frail frame.
A redolence of beauty flowing off.
My unknowing finally stops.
As rose fills the whole,
I can finally know.
Not of anger, but affection,
awareness is a steady convection.
I wait to be awaken,
only this dream has clearly been mistaken.
Fighting for a reassurance,
but only finding clairvoyance.
This is real.
I look into the special blue,
and for the first time I feel.
Shining like a field of dew.
Everything becomes all too clear.
Just like a dream.
Just like opening my eyes for the first time.
It all seems too bright,
too wholesome.
It comes crashing down.
Like the hooves of battle on your precious fields of dew.
The whole of rose is reddening.
While my special blue is resting.
Calm during calamity.
Been through all too much.
Claiming that happiness was brought through my touch.
Mine? How could this be?
When had said the same by me.
Mending together my fields back to old.
Watching as my life begins to fold
itself back into shape,
only this time missing a single shade.
My crimson.
Inner beauty has shined in my special blue,
shining through again.
Never known. Always humble.
Accepts all my words, even as I stumble
through all my confusion.
Hoping I can live in this winsome illusion.
Knowing that one day
my fields of dew may not stay.
A pinch and it fades.
Crumbles inward then out.
My fantasy finally cascades
and I find my happiness is replaced with doubt.
So believable were the fields.
The feeling and love of my special blue.
All so convincing it hurt.
Reality stings, like the harsh light of morning.
The days passed, revisiting my fields every night.
My life changing the day I got it right.
What was it I saw?
Its impossibility seemed to make it appeal ever more.
Down to the dimple,
they were the same.
The one in my dreams,
the one that kept me sane.
It couldn’t be true,
but it must.
The figure of an angel,
strides of confidence,
and a strong conscience.
The eyes of the one in my nights.
That mixed shade of ice and gray.
Perfect.
Special.
My special blue.
The locks of one unreachable.
The same as my nocturnal apparitions.
Same stunning smile, looks, mannerisms.
All the same.
This was my special blue.
It had felt like I’d known,
I knew I would find my dream.
Blurs fill my memory then,
acceptance is all I needed deem.
And accepted I was.
I was told my hands held the cure.
And my complex cause
had mended her heart.
Had given her the chance,
her life a new start.
But it was I who had felt anew.
And in a sense only a recurrence.
For my special blue had led back from askew.
She had led me back to clairvoyance.
Back to my dewy fields.
And my love, she ever yields.



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