her dreams shine like water
every day
poured from a pitcher in a dream
into a waking glass.
and under your pillow
is the golden leaf-
snatched from a tree
at the last bright moment
so you will not forget
where you have been.
her dreams shine like water
and won't be quenched.
and if you handle the sparkling
carafe of this poem,
be careful not to spill one drop
on the carpet of your waking
room.
mary angela douglas 23 november 2005
