Dream Weaver

I don’t know how long I have been

Playing hide and seek with my dreams

They are always next door

And no matter how often I knock

A pregnant silence always answers me

They can hear me coming

Climbing these stairs with a heavy step

And they go into hiding

As soon as my shadow is at the door

I try to sweet talk them into letting me in

I slide the pictures of my loved ones as strategy

And beg on my knees for my dreams to let me in

One day, gray hair on the rise

I smelled death coming out the apartment

Where my dreams have been living in

I made a pool of tears at the door

And sat there until the smell of death coated my skin

I was supposed to start weaving new dreams

But I was bone tired

And all I wanted was to sleep

And never wake up


2 thoughts on “Dream Weaver

  1. I especially like this poem, particular the poignant image of the speaker sliding pictures of loved ones under the door in order to be allowed into the dreamscape. It is a very moving poem and I want to share it.

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