RIC S. BASTASA

you read a book
and the night is deep and dark
you insert
a marker and then you
feel that gift
of sleep

dreams of rainbows
seep in your brain
the heart is an apple
beating with
the wind-chimes

somehow there is warmth of
this chill
feel the softness and the
smoothness
of scented oil

a kiss lands in your ear
and it is not a dream.