Between dreams and reality exist whole dimensions.

My Avalon

The gray of stone, and green of moss.

Arches high and low. The forest where it lingers near,

and rivers where they flow. Once I dwelt as near

to them, as far I have now come.  Yet though I’ve lived

here many years, my heart has not yet gone.

For I remember an isle in mist, and trees

that stretched so high. The moss it grew in banks

and hills, roving yon and nigh. The babble of brook

and forest scent, near brought me to my knees.

And now I wish that I had stayed; there among the trees.

For here I sit and reminisce, missing heart and soul,

an isle in Maine, surrounded by mist,

where I learned what my heart holds.

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