For the Slightest Chance of a Dream

And she was sleeping, like a baby Her untied, long hair was touching her face And there, she was lying in a deep, deep sleep. I was not sure if she was allowed to dream As she was pushed an injection to force the sleep And she was lying unconscious in a deep, deep sleep I still hope and pray for the slightest chance of a dream That, yet her sleep can afford, all for a greater good, there. The other day, I found a bookmark in her book, that I was reading A dried leaf, which reminded me of those days of colors, of distant past.