She wore a long white dress
With a black choker on her neck.
Her hair pulled back and
A silver Columbina mask on her face
That’s how she would visit him in his dreams.
Three times a week
forty days after she died.  
He didn’t cry
She talked to him casually
“What’s the mask for?” he asked
She played with his greying beard
Stroked his face
“Open your heart again,” she said.
He got up, leaned on the bed rest
The blood in him started circulating
His face was red
She placed her head on his chest
They talked
She liked to hear his voice
Telling her about the small things
He had a wonderful butter croissant
He wrote for three hours
How he walked across the
Bridge overlooking The Seine.  
He talked more about
The big things he wanted to do
With the rest of his life.
He wanted to write a novel,
A fictional one based on the
Different faces she wore.

His heart beat faster
His voice louder than ever before
The birds, the trees and even the moon
took notice.
Then she was gone.

I picked the whitest lily boat and set it on the shore
I thought it held a diamond prince, going off to war
I kissed him and I set him free; he wasn’t back today
I guess it’s just like Mama says: some things aren’t meant to stay

My prince is on the river now, finding sea-glass sand
He’ll take the brightest jewel around to put on my left hand
That must be why his boat’s not docked! He just needs one more day
I’ll wait and whisper to the forest; it won’t sail away

The sky is weeping soft and slow like Mama’s lullabies
Mist tiptoes in from water’s edge; wind skims my hair and dies
I hug my knees and close my eyes; I listen to the rain
The red leaves are my castle roof, the lake: my windowpane

Dandelions are soaked through now; no wishes left for me
The branches quiver, twirling down some helicopter seeds
Someday soon my prince will bring white lilies to my door
His smile will light up the air and I’ll be at home once more


-Chloe S.