the fruit

(Cerca de Navy Pier, en Chicago: 3 de abril de 2oo9)

DYLAN

I had a dream last night
that a little girl came to me.
Her hair was a halo of warm light
and color dripped off her tongue.

She was your daughter
and in her I saw the fruit
of everything I'd ever fought for
or believed in, or dreamt of.

(Jewel, A night without armor. Poems, Nueva York, HarperCollins Publisher, 1998, p. 44.)