If I don’t have much to say,

I’m remembering a dream

That started when a white crane flew

And sun shined on his feathers.

And if my eyes seem far away,

They’ve flown on a seam into the sky,

A silent wake created by wings

That disappear 

To the farthest corners of my mind.

But all these things I cannot say aloud,

For breath would have to pass across

My heart and throat, and I have none.

And even a moan may not escape 

The deep place I hold for you,

Here in my soul.

I hold my breath there while I view my own heart,

As I dream of you and white cranes flying.

-jenn