In these Winter mornings
that look exactly like nights,
you enter the room where I still sleep,
dreaming upside-down silliness,
and wake me with a kiss.

The dreams run away,
leak from my ears into the pillow,
play goofy dream games,
waiting for another night,
for the next time the Real Dream,
You, makes room for their return.


About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Free verse, joy, Poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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