Last night, a lantern bloomed in sleep, its glow still clings to dawn. I wake with petals in my hands no stem, no root, all gone. A dream, I know, was beautiful, it brushed against my heart; but morning steals the colors fast, and tears its shape apart. Like her - the schoolyard’s sudden sun, whose laughter bent the air, I saw her walk the corridors, and never whispered, there. I chase the fragments, shadows blur, they vanish as I reach; as if the dream were sand, and I a fool upon the beach. Yet still I praise what will not stay, the miracle half-seen: for even ghosts can fill a soul, with wonder in between. And so I love the nameless dream, the one I can’t recall as once I loved that girl in youth, and never spoke at all.