January 18, 200- It seems, again, that sleep eludes me. I sit in the hard, small chair in the hours before dawn and stare out the window at the soft, wet, moonlit snow, melting into the earth, becoming one with her. I awoke from the same nightmare. The beautiful woman with skin the shade of lavender and glittering, indigo eyes so full of fear?of me, oddly enough?falls from my sight as I gaze upon her in unabashed adoration. Who is she who, every time I fall asleep, fills my thoughts so completely, so obsessively? I awoke from the same nightmare. The beautiful woman with skin the shade of lavender and glittering, indigo eyes so full of fear?of me, oddly enough?falls from my sight as I gaze upon her in unabashed adoration. Who is she that, every time I fall asleep, she fills my thoughts so completely, so obsessively? Excerpted from The Poet: Book One in the Forest of Fontainebleau Series by Nickie Krewson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
