Scraps (13) The Dream

...Or 'unfinished writing attempts' 

I found this poem earlier in one of my notebooks where I wrote stuff back in 2004-2005. 

The Dream

I was walking amongst the trees in an evening fair, The Lady rides at her peak and a cold wind bites the air.
'Tis in this setting I was found under a willow tree, By a boy no older than I going on an errant spree.
He halted and asked my name yet I refused for my dame was near. He looked at me with soulful eyes and said, "Thou art whom speaks the seer".
Thus, I was abashed for to no one did I mention that was laid upon my heart. Wonder I glanced at the boy and saw the knowledge and perception of start.
Fate couldn't have been more tricky, thine destiny is in his eyes. He smiled at me and came close and as he did so the memories of eons past  came fast as time flies.
My dream, my love, my destiny, a scion of yesterday. When long ago we met under the pink blossoms mortal and fay.
But now, the strings of Kismet hast stretched its arms, And again we met by a future preordained, by a time ruled by charms.
"It seemed like eternity, but we meet again... at last."
-mtz 06.13.05