Plaid of the valkiery

your perfectly petite breasts your wavering smile,
your undivided patience and curly hair,
your name written in ink on the souls of your domain like the patina of dead leaves in autumn,
the words you speak of your hopes and dreams,

the way you hold your breath in shivers,
a sound of a sigh into the window cracks inside the hopeful dream,
the welcoming of the ghost to a feast of living dreams..
awake to the feast awake to the clouded castle in your dream.

the castles of the mind made of the warmth - of the world of ghostly hand,
of the world of reflection rather than dreams where unshielded minds..
see only the feast that awaits them in their sight of the Valkyrie from Valhalla's domain.

to say a man dreamed - the valkyrie dreams,
dreams of a heart afire with the desire to love despite the war's and blood on hands growing tired in battle..
the man who stands the testing of the blade - not to live but to fight with a heart and the silvery plaid of destiny.