~*~

Past midnight, during

Sleep’s Sahara hours

Dreams rise up as

Brain teasers which

Usually make no sense

Nor offer connection

Recognizable ~

I might close my eyes

Head on pillow, and 

Wish for a drowsing

Castle on misty cliff’s

Edge which would at

Least relate tangentially

To novel-in-progress of

My daylight life ~

Or perhaps a slumbering

Beach walk…white sand

Undulating palm trees

The face I love coming

Toward me…but the

Romantic possibility

Melts away, mere vaporous

Mirage…as, transitioning

Between sleep’s theater

And alert real world, my

Mouth fills with taste of

Pot-sticker dumplings ~

I don’t rest well, brain

Changing reels with

Rapid haphazardness

Fatigue is the norm ~

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.