Dreaming

Margaret V.Doran

Life isn't like this in my dreams
things turn out differently
you still love me there
in the time before wakefulness

when you come home after a day wood-cutting
the air is crisp and you bring in
little whirls of the cold in your beard,
around your boots and in the folds of your flannel shirt

and you smell like fir trees in the winter
and you are smiling and you laugh
out loud and you hug me tight
as if you missed me the whole three hours

and I want to stay in the dream
and I curl up tighter against you
just before daybreak
and pretend that it is real.

Copyright © 2003 Margaret V. Doran. All rights reserved.

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Updated March 15, 2005
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