For a Mother of Four

Published by The Wri-ters Establishment.

She comes alive and blazing when I’m dreaming.
When nightingales out sing passerines.
Songs swap between our dreams, while we are sleeping.

She’s awake late nights painting, live music streaming.
Unpenned letters sent,
with messages and signs.

I am reaping the love behind brusque glances, gleaming.
In times between our loads of laundry and the caffeine
she might dote on when I’m dreaming.

Bright lights of colours in the dark night beaming
on smoke screens,
of the lightless while we are sleeping.

We rage against the dawns and twilights screaming,
and lay in drapeless seams.
I’ll nod in her direction when I’m not dreaming;
Address another letter, while we are sleeping.