The Recollection of Dreams
In the picture,
when the music dream-splashes color
like sea waves against rocks—
we hear storms and whispers
in the red and blue,
feel heartache and love–
and if you must see the sorrow,
also recall the luscious scent of rose gardens
the taste of honey on your lips, a kiss.
My poem from the Oracle. The tile said fiddle, but the image of this Redon painting was in my head, not Chagall.