She enters my waking dreams, With her hair flowing in the breeze, Like Aphrodite plucked the soul of the East wind And planted in the Garden of Eden. As I follow her in an ephemeral trance, I catch a glance of her mesmerizing eyes. Those eyes, pure like the morning dew, On a cold winter morning. I call her name, But to no avail, Oh the vagaries of the damsel! I sense a playful smile on her lips. She turns around, And that is when I see, That smile. Molded in the likeness of the setting sun In all its glory, depth and color. Dreams don't last, but memories do, For now, my sunsets remind me of you.