Behind Closed Eyes

Waking from a dream...

Delirious whispers flood the moment

In which my eyes draw back in solitude, Where dreams of happenings past are sent

With metaphors of golden hue.

Familiar faces come and go

Through fields of orange and blue trees,

And in the distance humming low

Swarm purple and pink-stripped bees.

In a mist of hazy clouds I view

The sun stretch out to cover the moon.

The night sounds fade as though on cue,

Bringing an end to their evening croon.

As the sand runs from my eyes unto the sheet

I wake unto the morning of another week.