I dream of a room, painted in pastels.
Matching white wooden beds, draped with hand-knit throws.
A big sunlit bay window, letting in the world.
Winnie the Pooh chasing a red balloon on the wall.

In this room I can hold you.
Caress your innocent face.
In this room your fingers, so tiny and helpless,
can wrap around my own.

Here we can sit together, my lips whispering lullabies
in your ear. Ear’s so beautiful, dainty, and perfect I can
hardly believe they came from me. Here we can watch
the world blossom out the big bay window.

I come to this room more and more. Hoping to see you
smile for the first time. Hoping to witness your first steps,
your first words, your first tooth. Hoping to god you remember
my face when I’m gone.


There’s just one problem.
In reality, this room is non-existent.
Because in reality
you are non-existent.



In my dreams alone can I hold you.
Caress your innocent but never-completely-clear face.
In my mind alone can your fingers, tiny and helpless,
wrap around my own.

So I run to my dreams, stumbling and falling
in haste. For you are waiting there
for me.

Only in fantasy can we sit together, singing lullabies I know
but can barely remember the tune too. Only in dreamland
will I see your beauty. Only here can I pretend to
see the world unfold with you in it.

And every time I make it there,
I know it won’t be long till I wake up.
Ripped away from you.

Ripped away from this room, I know I will
never get to see you smile. I won’t see your first steps,
you’ll never take them. I won’t see your first tooth,
it will never come in. I’ll never hear your first word,
you’ll never say it. You won't remember my face,
you've never seen it.


Why, if I will never know you,
**must I dream about you so.