I seen heaven in a dream and like all good things
It ends to soon.
Eight hours narrowed down to short memory.
Lopsided sheets tucked comfortably in a discounted comforter.
Just before I waking up I heard a voice call my name.
A soothing voice layered in comfort.
Not once did I move. A place moist in anticipation.
Very rarely do I get to travel.
And good things come to end too soon.
The memory of smiling faces seen on a lukewarm day.
An older man sat at an iron wrought table.
Reading to himself the details of spaghetti and fork.
A slight twirl of long noodles punctuated by a piece of meat.
Next time I come I'll have to eat there.
By the open door with chalk on a board.
Going to sleep watching the food network definitely has it's consequences.
Being woke from one of the best dreams ever.
The sound of a rumbling stomach.
And an empty fridge
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem