Shadows I have seen

Is it a silhouette of memory,
Or a shadow I have seen—
In the brief moments
'twixt waking and sleep,
in the small space which intervenes?
 
The fleeting seconds or less
(ah! can such things be?)  
When confusion still lingers—
and life's real that dreams’
scenes blur strangely together.
   
When I shall open my eyes
to find her beside me;
behold the shape of her face
and the visage of her smiling.  

Or if instead I am wakened
by past times' laughter,
my children playing outside—
while my mistakes lay ahead
yet unmade, not looming behind.

The remnants of my memories
take form as reveries
preventing me from forgetting
what I've been advised to dismiss.
Yet still, I am unconvinced...

How can a reverie or a dream
not be thought real but a lie
when it is in such moments
I still dare to feel alive...
or dare to believe I am alive.