In the beginning
when I was young
and when I was very cold,
I took my mammoth skin
and drew it closer about me
and found refuge in dreams.
Like a tourniquet
it stopped the flow of life
out of me.
Now I am old
and I huddle
still deeper in my woolen wrap.
Closing my eyes,
I discover refuge again in my dreams.
And find it stops
the flow of life out of me. Again.
2 responses to “Refuge In Dreams”
Comforting and sad at the same time
The poem spans centuries. It is so, Maria. It is so.