A postcard from my dreams
postmarked just last night,
from exotic places
arrived with morning light.
Gentle tropic breezes
warmed my dreaming skin,
but when I did awake,
I was cold once again.
In my dreams I float
above the world I see,
but I’m always brought back
by the force of gravity.
A postcard from my dreams
proves that I was there,
wherever I was taken to,
though I do not really care.
For my dreams do not need,
my dreams do not require,
validation when I wake,
nor hosannas from the choir.
They belong to only me
and share I never will,
the postcards from my dreams
and the places that they fill.
