Symphony Of Forgotten Dreams

I dwelled in my dreams when I tried to sleep,
And I once said that I'd quit dreaming,
I did quit, and my thoughts were deep,
Yet that made it worse, for my tears kept streaming.

My heart kept leaping, I don't know why,
What shadow lurked, endlessly creeping,
After a while my eyes went dry,
And my heart stopped leaping.

I pondered for a bit to understand,
What was it that stopped the weeping,
Wasn't I just sometime beforehand,
In awe and without sleeping?

Then it dawned on me, a fleeting guess,
The cause behind this sudden rise,
Encountering a soul in deep distress,
In its silent lament, a connection ties.

Then being as I am, I felt the distress,
I felt it as a mere heart beating,
As if the soul I looked upon was restless,
And as if it was for a hand waiting.

I gazed upon the weary thing,
Without any fear of revealing,
That my intention was not to bring,
Any solace, for I, in sorrow, am concealing.

I recall that I met her in my dreams,
Once before, and she had all the seeming,
Of a maiden that shines and gleams,
I wonder what made her soul screaming.

She kept silent for a moment and then uttered,
I scarce was sure I heard her, for she was whispering,
Neither to be haunted, nor to be bothered,
By her looks or by her seeming.

And after some time she said we'd go,
I was in awe for she was leading,
The way to my own house although,
I only knew her while I was dreaming.

My eyes watered again,
Because she began speaking,
Of the reason of her sadness and,
Of the reason for my weeping.

She spoke of a lingering curse,
One with no hope of healing,
That had befallen me hence,
An affliction, cold and unfeeling.

She was once my wife,
But I didn't get the feeling,
That I did share my life,
With such a beautiful blessing.

Then I knew, the curse did seize,
Erasing memories, once so appealing,
Of everything that passed with ease,
And anything that once had meaning.

Then we spoke for hours and hours,
Of all of the things we once had been dreaming,
Then, I offered her flowers,
To remember me by, a love softly beaming.

"Who might you be, madam?", I asked the lady,
Her eyes gleaming with tales not for the telling,
"It seems it's time again", she said, voice steady,
Turning toward the door, memories dwelling.

The lady left with a man, strong and bright,
Her husband I presumed, for she was leaning,
On his shoulder, and he held her tight,
Yet, her eyes seemed sad, tears gently streaming.

I dwelled in my dreams when I tried to sleep,
And I once vowed I'd quit the dreaming,
I did quit, and my thoughts ran deep,
For time's cruel dance, a rhythm softly scheming.