For decades you lay buried in earth and mind,
but last night you rolled away
the stone of my subconscious,
forsaking tombstone white
to emerge in three-dimensional colour and
speaking with the dynamism
of one frozen at nineteen.
As in life, you are small, dark and intense,
exploding across my nightscape,
your wicked sense of fun
unweighted by the years.
As though absolved,
I awake reassured
by your lack of envy for the living.
POET'S NOTE: The poet wishes to acknowledge The Press in whose pages this poem recently appeared.