Sleep comes again to settle
the state of one who weeps
but again the dream comes marching
through the veils of consciousness.
Stirred awake it’s not to say
she no longer weeps
but her focus now enlarged
encompasses this “double-up”.
Weighted she’s a woman, maybe you, maybe me,
rationalizing, justifying, and trying to explain
how dreams intrude and supersede
But finally and indubitably one deep breath
and shrug of shoulders, flick of head,
blows all the puzzle pieces
out the doors and windows.
She doesn’t rush to gather them
because she knows like I do
dreams are simply nature’s way
of mixing up realities.
Armed now with breath, head/shoulders straight
and un-weighted with that dream
she turns to face the rising sun
sure again that dreams aren’t real!