The night sky of sleep
was ebulliently psychedelic,
specs of colors, yellow, brown, red,
created an ancient language
that spoke, secrets of a forbidden past,
The helicopter crept through,
the sky, tearing the canopy
of lights momentarily,
landed on a high rise apartment of dreams.
Now, after all these years,
difficult to remember,
who lives where;
aren't we somnambulists,
without navigational aids?
I would suddenly wake up
from one dream
within another -
soft touches of tender fingers,
sweet whispers in my ears,
soft light spreading its palm on an exposed shapely breast,
I'll sense a disquiet,
a sigh, the pangs of a weeping heart, incidental results of
a life of passion, strife and agitation,
getting ****** by currents,
diving deep in to swirling waters
In a dream, a young woman,
standing on a podium, in a class room,
teachers in a trembling voice
how to appreciate poems:
"From beyond light years,
comes our grief..."
the scene dissolves in to mist.
silence!
I am an yellow moon,
she is the pale mist circling,
we are in an embrace, momentarily,
in a dream
in the jeweled bed of the night sky.