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Anxiously Dreaming


Jim Ciccolini

I dream of a girl, eyes heavy with bags,
weariness blatant in her wrinkled face,
her hair in tangles, her clothes tattered rags
with skin that's never felt the softness of lace

I dream of a woman, wizened with years,
scattered, gathered and shattered once more,
engulfed in her passion, immersed in her tears
yet willing to try harder than before.

I dream of a soul that radiates light
like a beacon amidst a blinding storm
calling out to all of cautious sight
and assuring of refuge, safe and warm.

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