I dreamed that I was tangled up in vines
too numerous to count (such slender twines).
They’d somehow crept upon me in the night.
It felt so real, this strangely “twisted” plight!
I tried to move, but I could not break loose.
My face and limbs were wreathed, each in a noose.
Fresh fear set in. I writhed and writhed about,
then realized I’d have to wait it out.
In time, the vines were clearer to my eyes.
Their peril was a pleasure in disguise,
And instantly, I knew just what to do!
I turned into a mouse so I might chew. . .
My nightmare had become a child’s fond wish. . .
I set forth nibbling cherry strands of licorice!
For Frank Herrera's "Dream" poetry contest