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Guardian of the Dream

by Cynthia Proctor
Evening dew settles softly on my rose and violet home,
absorbing the fragrance, creating a mist, like a perfumed, heavenly
dome.
From this mist, I descend to your bedside, searching a tear-salted sea,
collecting the threads of all-but-lost dreams, to create a fine
tapestry.
I'll shelter these strands with heart and soul,
'til one morning, shining like gold,
by your pillow, will sit your tapestry,
waiting for you to unfold.




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