We were far,
and farther still
when you morphed
into a shape
I’d never seen before.
You shed long strands
of fine brown hair,
princess swan,
feathers floating by
still waters
revealing the end
of a long spell.
I didn’t know you that way—
I belonged to
some part of the dream
from which you woke up
when you became
lighter.
You didn’t recognize me
as you emerged
into the day—
you, new you,
taper cut you—
So I picked up the remnants
of your old winter self
and saved them for
another
night,
just in case
you ever dreamed of me
again.