Night Becomes Day
My dreams
arrive in brightly colored hues,
gift-wrapped
with golden ribbons.
My dreams tell me stories
of what has been
and what may be.
My dreams are kind,
soothing me when I slumber,
my ancestors come a-visitin',
soft cotton voices
and gentle smiles.
Good night my dreams,
morning is nigh.
Stephen Gospage
Wed 5th Apr 2023 08:21
A lovely, rounded, satisfying piece, Hélène.