Sweet dreams
they flee before my eyes
In battle for conscious state
when sated is my need for sleep
but wanting slumber still and deep.

Where did they go?
Whence did they come?
These moments of clarity
when vision of reality
is more than truth.

Sweet dreams,
like watercolor scenes
in rainy-day windows
slip through fingers
in waking moments past.

What is real
in almost slumber,
but escapes my grasp
as the world intrudes.
It cannot last.

Sweet dreams,
in hazy sharp contrast
of fuzzy fogged still images
to dance for me
across mind's canvas.

Wish or want,
hope or dream,
of times to come
so always perfect
then there, just slip away.

Sweet dreams,
pastel colored echoes
of waking moment memory
in sharpened real hues
of sleep's tender cradle.

Where go forgotten wisps
of almost thought?
they flee like clouds
before the winds
of conscious mist.

Sweet dreams
they flee before my eyes
the moments pass
in swirling fog battle
for sleep and wake.

I try to capture the ghosts
of mind's creation.
They skip from my vision
like a fleeting glimpse
of moon passing clouds.

Sweet dreams
Would I sadden at the loss of
painted precious thought
that slipped like sand
through child's play fingers.

Sweet dreams
every moment precious
real and then not
gone without gasp
forgotten but not.

Awake.

Copyright 2012 MJ Logan. All rights reserved. No republication without express written consent.

Image Credits
- Dreamcatcher by Steven Depolo at Flickr.com
Background - Dreaming - by MJ Logan


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