A DREAM MADE FLESH

Pretty fingers aligned like rows of fragile porcelain, borne aloft like miniature twigs
On a graceful willow that trades its coarse surfaces for the youthful sheen of milk-white skin.
Long hair cascading down across pale shoulders, a red-brown sunset
Now streaked with creative abandon upon the soft formlessness of a satin pillow.

And I'm there beside you. Lost and found. Dead and reborn.