The clearness of a dream
I had in bed last night
Has dimmed at dawn-
I'm awake and looking west,
Its dialogue in a deep sleep
Now almost vanished
In the wash of awakening.
In the dream, so real I swear,
She appeared:
Into my head as I slept she crept:
Always eighteen.
As lovely as I left her
At her father's hearth
And said our last goodbyes
To all the years of my unspoken love.
Love's Labour- I began to say,
(Speaking of the title of a play)
But there she stopped me
In my mid line
To finish it herself this time:
'Love's Labour- is never- Lost'
Contradicting
Both Shakespeare and myself.
That was the only thing she said
As with the dream she left my bed.
Matt Mooney
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/always-eighteen/
