Curtains Made Of Time Poem by Norm Milstein

In robes of cloud with the moon for a hat,
her hair a stream of falling stars,
she rides a dreampuff all the night
through parrot plumaged seas.
Her forest thoughts, her river dreams,
through colored countries fly and flow,
and there her circling hopes do seek
the jeweled dew of morning.
Can she find a world of glee
in poppy cups and pawprints,
those little creatures of the night,
from ropes of sleep untangled?
Can she see the whispered scents
of roses made of ripened red,
or catch the calls of hopping birds
in pockets made of rhythms,
when through hoops of days and nights
in fabled green of stories washed,
she parts with careful flower fingers
curtains made of time?