the sandman.

the most
ethereal melody
plays while i
sit before the
fire,
half dreaming,
half awake.

the shadow people
sit with me
and we talk
while the stars
roam the sky.

the wind
blows north
and dances with
our hair,
caught up in
its embrace.

the shadows
grow quiet
while their leader
tells a story
of wolves
and palaces
of snow.

then he reaches
out his hand
and caresses the ground,
lifting sand
with his fingers,
and blows it
into my face,
stinging my eyes.

"shh!",
he whispers.