In the still of the night
when I have taken flight and cannot sleep,
you dream.
I wear sweat upon my brow,
sleepless, aware somehow of whom
you dream.
My heart, pumping, it tick-tocks,
echoing sounds of alarm clocks set to break
my dreams.
When sleep comes, it's cruel, unkind
playing tricks on my troubled mind, I have nightmares,
not dreams.
Maybe, one day, in a time not yet here
I will find there is nothing to fear anymore from
my dreams.
perhaps, in the future, you will be
standing where I want you, next to me, in life
not in dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, like it.