In the silence of the night come dreams of days long past.
How many lives has this soul lived?
An ancient courtyard, so many stones. The castle stands majestic
against the cloudy sky.
The images are haunting, but comforting. How many more journeys
are ahead?
How many more dreams like an antique photo album of the mind?
Was I a Lord or a Lady, a King or a Queen?
Now just a woman displaced in time. The soul remains.
The memories, imprints in the night.
Elisa McBride




