Tuesday Poem: "Dreaming of Michael"

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.