Dream Catcher

I saw a woman step into the train
her breathlessness catching every eye
she was on a mission; dressed to kill.
Or at least with a point to prove.
And as I continue to study her,
and as she caught my gaze
and as I caught a glimpse of her soul,
I saw her spirit blackened by burnt desires.
Broken, Razed.
And for that moment we lay open like books
craving to be read, begging to be known
not wanting to be alone.
and yet our pages, browned with time,
remain unturned and untold.

Maybe one day, I'll draw enough courage
in situations like these.
to admit that I don't have it all figured out,
that I might have gotten it all wrong
and that is all right.
Let me crawl across your time zone
so these moments may be in sync.
Instinct tells me that
if You are the vine,
and we are the branches
So why are are your leaves so low?
and where is your fruit?
Are we nothing more than trees with withered roots?

Although her eyes betray her silent look,
the images that adorn her body
like pictures in a children's book.
Her tattoos each tell a story.
A geisha on her arm represents discipline,
to bring art in environments that cannot see past bare skin.
Flowers on her wrists show that deep within
is a girl waiting for her prince.
And on her foot,
a tattoo of the finest detail; a dream catcher.
To pick those that have fallen unfulfilled.

- Daryl Goh