Rest, Restless Mind

Rest, restless mind.
fear not what you uncover
while under covers 
that do not belong to you.


Dream on 
of laughter and giggles
and first meetings, 
and kisses.


They needn't come true
they seldom do
that's why the poets get paid
in accolades and finger snaps
and go hungry
back into the night.


One bulb illuminates their room
like a beacon, not for ships
but for shifts in thinking.


Torn by dreams
planted by another
but nurtured by your fantasies.
And by questions left 
unanswered - avoided 
as if diseased.


It matters some
but not a lot
to turn the page once more.