The Dawning Of Dreams

Dreams

are falling
from my hair

one by one
they leap off each strand
as if midnight's abstractions
sprouted legs
for a singular purpose

to jump into something
more appealing than dawn,
but to where

I ogled their little figures
like a critic
would stare through grading
an exquisite painting,
just in case eyes might lose
their scuffling whereabouts

then quickly
all at once
they nuzzled themselves
beneath my "Dreams do come true" pillow,

perhaps to sleep or...

I'm grasping to the notion that
last night's images will fade away
just like love

and those so called dreams
will filter their screams
into something less scary than fear
at least before Bella Luna
sprinkles her slumber
upon my stupefied brows