Dreams Poem by Barbara Clafton

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.