when the sallow moon rises
from her hidden slumber
and the stars light their
unimaginably distant fires,
i slip under my fleece cocoon
and curl into the waking dreams
of sleep.

my thoughts lose their borders,
flowing into an erratic pulse of
flashing images and wild colors.
in these dreams, you are a tidal wave.
you swell before me, dark and
enigmatic, a monstrous shadow.
you are deep and murky,
making my heart race with
the fear and excitement of the
unknown.

under the forgiving moon,
i allow my mind to hope for
things unlikely and far-off.
but when that pallid face
slips behind the earth and the
arrogant sun climbs up with
a blinding smirk, i turn my
own face toward the mirror and
stare into his begrudging truth:
i am not first place, i am not the
best, but i am just good enough, and
that is plenty for me.