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.