Astonished I witness the trees rise
tall from their base,
not even rooted.

Leafs leave,
group,
organize,
and shifting shapes,
take to the sky
only to dive down.

A red dragon,
a viking vessel,
coming straight at me.

The memory of holding your hand,
and blinking,
gets me through.

But how far could even a never fading memory take me?
I shall hold your hand again, or be taken by the leafs.