The Trail of Moonbeams - Poetry

A shimmer travels 'cross my pillow; moonbeams flood the room.

Clouds flit o'er the face of that far off satellite in smiles.

I let shadows dance 'round me. Shadow puppets from my fingers tell stories.

Owl wings rush upon their prey.

Small, so small am I.

I wonder who lights the moon and struggle to stay awake.

I feel night fingers gently smooth my hair and warm summer breezes lift my heart to dreams far greater than me.

I'm climbing trees and see the river turn itself to sea.

I feel deep, abiding truth
no longer eludes me.

I cling to moonbeams that pull me into sleep.

I step on stars and build castles into everlasting dreams.

SRC

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