Dreams of You

A broken heart is often like a bedtime story.
After my mother read aloud "The End" and closed the book,
Sorrow struck my mind.
"The End" brought the close of day.
Beginning with a tiny fracture, day would prepare to cease.
Day would crack and rupture like a brick thrown through glass.
A note attached would scream, "Go to sleep!
" Now I lie in bed on my side with the door cracked open.
The hallway light spills into the room.
And then the horizon swallows the moon and turns toward the explosion of orange.
Dawn is realizing the eyes you gaze into belong to your love.
And the hope of finding that is what keeps the nightmares away
And the dreams under the sun dancing on the spring's breeze.
With the sunflowers and dandelions under foot,
The Gods of Fruit and Labor have answered my dreams.
Dreams of you.

-Jeff-