i rise early
and join
the conference of laughter
as my room is clambered
by dappled light.
silence
beats back to glass
and houses
a wild flame of dreams.
  it is like
  my time is up
  and the portent of approaching
  moments divine themselves
  in the rain as i peer through
  the window and see myself
  aghast and burning
  underneath a deathless parasol
  of hands.
to see your dream slowly
tip away and jump frightened
to infinite smallness and then
slide, slouch
in the distance --
to revere in its
fading, romanticizing it
with hendecasyllabic recollections.
to be left with nothing
but a sharer in the moment:
a day's end.