My Dreams

My dreams are like a river that flows pass my bed at night. They float out of the shadows after the dark defeats the light. They slip out of a mystic world In silent repose I sleep, stirred by my gentle breathing and a rest that relaxes me. I drift down to a dreamy state where time gathers then flees so fast, only to fade into the foolish amid fantasies that never last. My mind creates a private show In twilight or an abyss, so deep then I plunge into its mysteries that confounds me while I sleep. My dreams are a wonder so real in that space of time. Figures appearing as actors with faces I recognize. My dreams give me a roll to play and on the silent stage I sweep, seeking answers for my confusion for reality hides from me.