Ernesto P. Santiago Poet Free verse

Sweet Dreams

I slip into 
my cloud 
and let it

take my mind 
to count how much left 
of my imagination.

“Ah, I see 
no stars in 
weightless night!” I said.

So she folds 
me, with her honeyed 
palms 

and keeps me 
warm 
in her pot of dreams—

recollecting
my memories to face 
another morrow.

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