These Quiet Dreams and I

Alone, I weave a dream
within spun-glass walls,
a world for escape
when the fantasy calls.

A dream sewn with whispers
and wisps of a wish.
A soft, painted twilight
with a dawn-blue kiss.

I weave an endlessly circling,
old stone road,
where every step brings me closer
to a valley lit gold

by the lingering mists
and the wandering lights
of spirits and phantoms
drifting just out of sight.

Every breath is a fluttering
breeze on my lips,
gone like wandering thoughts
while the gentle wind drips

through the fidgeting leaves
like my spiraling sigh.
We're all alone in this world,
these quiet dreams and I.