That night, I couldn't sleep,
For the moon had stolen my dreams
And written them on her face.
So I wandered to the beach,
Finding there a moonbeam
Like a staircase.
To demand my dreams of the moon.
They found me near dawn,
Curled on the sand,
Staring into the tide,
With fading starlight in my hair.
I wrote this poem several years ago while listening to "Cursum Perficio" by Enya. It sounded a lot more ominous while I was writing it. And even though it's written in first person, I really don't know what went down in those pre-dawn hours and I wonder about it sometimes...