Sorry if my dreams are boring you.

It’s just that I never used to be able to

Hold on to them.

They were as ephemeral as clouds 

And trying to pin their shifting down.

I am sure I was still walking miles

Every night, 

Cursed to wake tired but not understand why.

But now I remember the scent of the wet grass

On my bare feet

Like chocolate.

And cutting clear water with my body 

For miles my body could never carry me.

Things almost make sense in the dreams,

But on waking are just a but ofF

And obscure.