Your Dreams

Kay Brownlow's poem August Afternoon appeared here, well, in August. You will like the way this poem evokes memory, nightmares, and the ongoing dialogue we sometimes keep with those that are not with us, wherever they may now be.

Your Dreams
By Kay Brownlow

Your dreams miss you,
at night they call your name,
wake me,
pull me to the window
in a flutter of
forgetfulness

as I hurl myself,
like a bewildered moth,
over and over
against an unforgiving
screen of
memories.

Call them home,
your dreams;
take them, make them
yours again.
Leave me
to solitary sleep.

Posted by Annmarie at 10/15/2010 11:32 PM
Categories: today's words
Tags: dreams memories sleep Kay Brownlow
 

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