Billows of fog
are quickly creeping in,
white as smoke, forming
into a wavy set of steps
suspended...quivering,
and now beckons to me,
a soft voice calls my name
tells me not to be afraid...that it's
okay to climb the foggy stairs,
"i'll be there to meet you at the top,"
the voice assured me...
i must see the owner of the soft voice,
i feel i know him...he knows me well!
my right foot hesitates...but rises,
to take a step...
suddenly, a blow on my right arm
makes me open my eyes 👀 👀
my sister, sound asleep,
turns to my side, and
accidentally hits my arm
just in time,
:::::::::::::::
i was dreaming of my late father,
.................................again.
sally b
Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
February
(My late father often visited me in my dreams when I was small, until
I became a teenager.)