tell me about your dreams
about twisted trees
and falling tea leaves
tell me about how your dreams help you cope with grief
it doesn't have to be brief
you always are the comedy relief
but what's going on underneath
in all your sweet dreams
the dreams that make you gleam
you follow the streams and seams
in your sweet dreams
I am great and tall,
bushy and fast,
orange with swirls of yellow and white.
I am a fox.
I run in the forest with my furry friends.
my tail bouncing,
you choose the coldest seat in the class
next to the tall pretty girl
with a gleaming smile and long, straight flowing hair.
taking one good look at her you already know her story.
new school means new friends
i think as a stare across the table at the same friends.
but something seems different.
we're missing someone,
or many someones.
or maybe even a part of ourselves.
Comments
I love the idea of this encounter between these characters, both the speaker and the subject: one, so ready and willing to listen and probe and crack the nut, break the harder exterior of humor their friend employs, and the other on the other side, someone who's probably waited a long time to be asked, "But are you really okay? How are you sleeping?" It's a tender image.
thank youu!! it's my favorite thing i've written :)
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