A Fading Portrait Poem by Bryan Taplits

I had a captive dream last night
Which prisons are made to hold,
Of synergies and wistfulness
And things that once were told.
The one thing that I recall so well
Was spun so long ago,
A wishing well it blossomed to-
Was streaked with threads of gold.
The days so long, the nights long gone,
We held each in our sway,
Though the nearer you come to me in my dreams
The farther you move away.
I guess, the times are a'changing
As years pass into night,
Last night I witnessed a too brief kiss-
And your fading out of sight.