PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What gift is this
that arrived suddenly,
wrapped in stallions
and Autumn air,
the kind that feels like a
cellophane kiss,
promising
peril and madness and high
quality joy--joy like a Dali
clock stretching past
possible--

then delivers snow and ice.

What cosmic trickster
rattled my heart like dice,
squandered my heaven
for a laugh
or a round of drinks
for his god friends?

Somewhere
between
Autumn and magic,
a dream showed up.

There it was,
and there it was not.

And as those stallions
of hope die one by one
I can at least say
that I awoke
for a moment
and loved.

Patricia Joan Jones