Mica-Colored Dreams

Like stardust dreams of night
Are my visions in the day,
Clear mica-colored specks,
That seem to float away…

They cling to my remembrance,
Like old dust upon a shoe,
And travel up my doorstep
Just like each thought of you…

And what a slave I am,
So shackled to each whim,
Still hoping against hope
Of being free again…

But I am yet a prisoner,
A captive, so it seems,
Still fettered to my visions,
Of mica-colored dreams.

By Sharon Frye