Cool wind dreams

          Softly the wind comes. Settling a slight breeze over
paleness. Still, though, nothing cools down the fevered
freckles.

          So calmly I inhale. Expecting the exhale to be
just as rapid. Indeed a bit of throbbing vibrates
throughout. Still I am unwavered.

         Sitting, lounging in a mode to catch all the
breaths of the wind. Singing a sweet melody into
my four plastered wedgwood walls. Rejuvenating
my senses into an "aaah".

         Yes the evening is turning over to midnight.
The new day is about to form and I have been
blinking back the low laying lids. Still no sleep
stays long. The stormy grays become alert once more.

        Perhaps the distance I stare begins to take
shape and my eyes blur. So clear is the craving of
coldness. Something to wave over me as I finally
find myself falling into a dream.

        Maybe in desperation I fall but I must hope
that the mind is kind. Ah a form of charcoal scars
the fingertips yet open the eyes from kohl. Shh
listen.

        Hear the slow rhythm of my heartbeat.
Slowly calming into a softness of baby's skin. So
fresh and love. Is it possible to hold onto
that second? Hold onto that last breath before
excitement?

      Ah how the eyes drift. The mind tunes into
the heated silence and the single beat of the drum
rages. Indeed a solitary moment I want so
badly to share.

               And so I did.

     Simple in my request yet it seems so complex.
Indeed I would not be a woman, if easy. The layered
rolls of elastic become a mountain before long but
how much can be expanded before a downwind?

     La. At this moment I only need, only hope
yet I say nothing. Indeed a prayer settles upon
my copper, blond strands. In hopes, in dreams
one day my voice will be okay, not altered to
appease so many.

    One day, some day, soon. So here I lay down
upon hippie flowers in following the slow, even sighs.
Finding once more that the power of sleep does
rebuild.

     Yes. Ah yes. I dream. Closing for a stage of dark
greens. Mountains, trees, rivers are motions but
not cruel. I must learn and be still.

     So smile I do. Listening. Praying and hoping
one dream is not selfish enough, is not pressed
as unfortunate. Oh yes, I do so need it to be free.

           Yet, one day.