Voice of a Dream

 I. Whisper Without Breath

I was not born of morning,

nor wrapped in the hush of a mother's sigh.

No cradle held me,

no lullaby ever bent toward me in the dark.

I drift at the edge of silence—

a shimmer, a thought never spoken aloud.

You might have dreamed me once,

half-formed between sleep and waking,

then turned away.

I remain where the sigh ends.

---

II. The Unnamed Light

I had no name,

but I remember the colors you almost gave me.

Soft greens of spring,

the amber breath of autumn,

and the silver hush of a snowfall you never walked through.

In some life that never took root,

I would have called you mine.

But even now,

unclaimed and unwoven,

I reach for you in the stillness

between heartbeat and forgetting.