One Day to the Next

To go between the days,

I sleep,

invaded for long periods

by the ephemera of dreams

(always domesticated: no jungles,

tigers, rushing rivers)

that peek to the surface

for a matter of seconds

when I wake

and then evanesce.

If dreams are meant to teach us,

then mine will have to stick around

long enough to be examined,

categorized, or simply remembered.

Still, I can think of no better link

between my days

than my warm and snug haven from the real,

every night,

in a world that is not of my conscious making.

 

 

 

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