tell me about your dreams
about twisted trees
and falling tea leaves
tell me about how your dreams help you cope with grief
it doesn't have to be brief
you always are the comedy relief
but what's going on underneath
in all your sweet dreams
the dreams that make you gleam
you follow the streams and seams
in your sweet dreams
i have always journaled,
ever since i was 6.
sure back then my entries were just doodles of my day,
but it still helped me convey my emotions.
i was at the shop with my mom,
i sit at the lunch table with my few friends,
i have so many thoughts at this time,
i am silent.
i need new friends.
i think.
new friends that don't treat me like i'm dirt.
we stick together like Snufkin and Little My,
as the time passed by,
and you moved and i stayed,
we never unstuck.
when spring came back,
we would walk and talk all day,
Comments
I love the idea of this encounter between these characters, both the speaker and the subject: one, so ready and willing to listen and probe and crack the nut, break the harder exterior of humor their friend employs, and the other on the other side, someone who's probably waited a long time to be asked, "But are you really okay? How are you sleeping?" It's a tender image.
thank youu!! it's my favorite thing i've written :)
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