Dreamers

Last night, toeing the line
on the track to nocturnal forgetfulness,
Morpheus' sat and watched, stagnant,
my leapfrogs over daylight's insights,
treadmilling with insomniac sneakers on,
lapped by those more certain in their struggle:

A man hurt by so-called love
who seeks a truer version,
even though differently spelled,
'serious friend' reads the label.
And maybe the letters will change,
given time and patience.

A man among so many.

A woman, free spirit undercover,
feeling unwell in her inherited dress,
trying a more daring pattern.
Her heels might be higher,
but her feet are still on the ground,
swirling around the gentle men.

A woman maybe not alone.

A person with an identity found, finally,
refused by family and friends before.
Waiting for the partner to return home,
traditional about love, between two,
but more modern in their thinking
what's beneath lover's wrappings.

A person unique like everyone.

  I heard you dream
    your dream about love.
  I listened to your dreams
    your dreams about life.

A writer with a story to tell,
hidden secrets in their mind
not for anyone to know but total strangers.
There might be truth within the fantasy.
But the real magic is inside your head,
not waiting for your peep behind the curtain.

A writer weaving spells to catch you.

A poet with emotions to share
paraphrased in lyric riddles
leading up to mountain tops of clarity,
down to chasms they dare you to pass.
A message in bottled metaphors
sent to your eyeshore.

A poet fishing for lines.

An artist with visions in their head
that flow into sketches to be fleshed out.
Drafts of what could be or never would,
fantasies become undressed on the canvas.
As colors mix, in- and outside blend,
presenting you a personal point of view.

An artist drawing you in.

  I saw you dream,
    your dream so clear.
  I read your dreams,
    your dreams so bold.

Broken hearts and lonely minds
want to get rid of the darkness within.
Wandering these realms to find a cup
able to hold their dolorous drops.
Every sip that's split and shared
makes the sad vinegar less corrosive.

Hearts and minds can find a cure.

Sunny smiles shine brighter,
reflecting on a friend.
Is banter only a foolish diversion,
or therapy that bridges foul grounds?
Happiness won't kill the pains of cuts dealt,
but gorges filled with sympathy are easier to cross.

Winks can find friends.

Have you got an oh-so-pervert knack
that even to start with makes people quit?
Here, right around the corner,
find someone with the same lovely twist.
As it turns out wicked curls and fringes
make an attractive decoration.

You can find someone alike.

  I can feel you dream,
    your sensational dreams.
  I am touched by your dreams,
    your dreams full of emotions.

And I saw the most lonely ones too,
trying to sell their nightmares.
But why pay those in love
who deal with hate...?

  ...and then I remember the dreams,
    good and given for free.

Friends, you never did meet
thought you would never need,
as they share their dreams
in most simple figures.

In written words.

Am I just dreaming?