Eyes, shadowed soliloquies,

by sleepless nights

whisper goodbye

and rest under dogwood blossoms.

Branches of dove flowers,

taking off to blue iris skies.

 

Dreams reflect my gut

into a mirror,

                        cracked

and cast childhood of

swallowed animal crackers,

fevered innocent.

Lions release battle cries,

elephants’ minds lost,

and rhinos bare their horns.  

Each the King of his own jungle,

a child’s imagination,

coloring book, or zoo.

 

Painted in first impressions,

words dance from my tongue

and shape the frame of a person,

pursed lips, crossed arms,

tapping her foot to the beat

of discipline:

            “You wander.”

 

There is nothing more beautiful

than the mind of a child—

Crayola adventures

pressed into sunsets

and hopscotching across

mountain tops,

the only things tying them

to Earth, undone shoelaces

and Mommy’s worrying.

 

 

 

Pillows, cirrus

playmates for lonely days,

when rainclouds linger

over my bed,

and I soar among lightning bolts.

Daydreams melt,

into vanilla ice cream

summer days when

childhood was much sweeter

and my dogwood blossoms

held dreams.

 

Now,

            aged

and my animal crackers

taste more like chalk,

they live in carboard boxes

and hide from earthshine.