Peeking through the window,
A glimpse caught him in the far meadow.
The dancing dandelions filled in the air,
Running midst the crowd was a white mare.
Warm as a sleeping child,
A touch he felt when her arms had him coiled.
Her breath like the musk of lavender blooms,
He'd come to life from his gloom.
Peaches and plums she wore in her cheeks,
Tempting for a bite made him pique.
Then..

His hands slipped, his chin hit the wooden pane,
For nothing of it was true but an illusion in his memory lane.