About a dream

 
In a dream I once dreamt,  
My daughter and I  
stood watching an old, gnarled tree  
set against the fiery setting sun  
that bled into a dark grey sky.  
Seen in its twisted shape,  
A dancer,  
A frozen devil,  
Its clawed hand held out to her  
in an invitation  
that no one has ever declined.  
Now she's let go of my hand,  
The brilliant orange outlining the edges  
Of her hair,  
Her dress,  
Useless to plead, "Don't go,"  
When I went myself.  
(Everyone does.)  
My daughter and I stood watching this old, gnarled tree  
Seen in it's twisted shape,  
The dancer,  
The devil,  
The tempter,  
And the shadow  
that splits apart the fading light  
of innocence.