soft in waves
she comes down from the heavens
tethered only by a fraying strand of moonlight
caressing each memory
she holds in her hand
your sleeping heart at night
still beating as it will within her silken purse
as she alights on downy pillow stairs
to a land of subconscious realizations
sometimes she begins with a gentle smile
and a saddened gaze
and leaves in a faded gesture
with the ringing of an alarm clock
other times she comes creeping teeth pointed
and eyes hardened from too much to process
she'll depart as quickly as she came
leaving you in a cold sweat in the darkness of the early hours
she is the dream keeper
who in tiny bottles made of star dew
collected in the nebula fields
holds onto all the dreams we forget
and holds dear each little memory
each sliver of childhood innocence
we lose touch with as we strive for maturity
she is the mother of the inner child
and though she can be cruel coldhearted or blunt
she loves each mind dearly
as if we were all the little moons to her sun
with each forgotten piece of our souls
she has a safe place
whether it be shelf room or hole
and for each passing day
she collects more and more
for she is the dream keeper
mother to all
who still keep hold of their childhood
whether in a big way or small
she comes down from the heavens
tethered only by a fraying strand of moonlight
caressing each memory
she holds in her hand
your sleeping heart at night
still beating as it will within her silken purse
as she alights on downy pillow stairs
to a land of subconscious realizations
sometimes she begins with a gentle smile
and a saddened gaze
and leaves in a faded gesture
with the ringing of an alarm clock
other times she comes creeping teeth pointed
and eyes hardened from too much to process
she'll depart as quickly as she came
leaving you in a cold sweat in the darkness of the early hours
she is the dream keeper
who in tiny bottles made of star dew
collected in the nebula fields
holds onto all the dreams we forget
and holds dear each little memory
each sliver of childhood innocence
we lose touch with as we strive for maturity
she is the mother of the inner child
and though she can be cruel coldhearted or blunt
she loves each mind dearly
as if we were all the little moons to her sun
with each forgotten piece of our souls
she has a safe place
whether it be shelf room or hole
and for each passing day
she collects more and more
for she is the dream keeper
mother to all
who still keep hold of their childhood
whether in a big way or small
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