While I was sleeping,
you snuck in through the window.
I can only hope you had the usual
sly grin stretched across your lips.

You had a strict agenda
& pockets full of good intentions.
Slinking around the perimeter
of my living room,
you gingerly fondled each piece of my literature
& slipped little folds paper
between the pages of every book.

In green ink,
you had written snippets of song lyrics
& the quotes less quoted
by those famous individuals
we had both come to admire.

It was a dream,
& in it, I grew older.
But I continued to discover them—
flashes of green
slow-floating to the floor
whenever I’d crack open one of their tired spines.

I’m glad you can manage
to seep into my subconscious
now and again,
& trick me
**into dreaming in color.