Dreams
I love to sleep.
When I sleep, I dream.
When I dream…
Mom is alive.
I see her in restaurants and in theaters and driving in other cars
Until the lady turns her head.
I see her in the wardrobe hanging in my closet
That I am now able to wear.
I smell her when the right combinations of the right perfume and lotion passes by
Or when the right scented candle is burning.
I smell her when I am cooking one of her delicious recipes
Or when I walk into my dad’s house.
I hear her when I hurt myself
“*sigh* Jame…”
Or see a puppy
“Awe!”
Or sometimes when I speak.
Mom is alive…
When I dream…
I dream when I sleep...
I love to sleep.
Jamie, this poem is so beautiful! It seems as if you wrote this poem for my father and me. I totally relate to it.
ReplyDeleteYour post has a similar feel to Meredith's post. It's amazing how so many things take us back in time. Many times it's a gift that we are able to stop and sit in that memory.
ReplyDeleteJamie, this is wonderful. I have hope that someday I will be able to have the same experiences in my dreams. I have yet to dream about my dad, whether I try or don't try, it just hasn't happened yet. May you dream tonight :).
ReplyDelete