Some Whimsy

2.
Dreams
come in dozens
and sixes
and singles.

They bulge at the bottom
and taper at the top
and dance everything imaginable in between.

If you hold them right to the light,
you can catch a rainbow
in your hand.

They’re black, and white,
and filled to bursting
with shattering vibrant colour and
phosphorescence.

They sparkle
darkly
with velveteen brilliance
and pink-brittle promises.

They make beauty
brighter,
until your head fills with nonsense
and flitting amazement you wouldn’t swap for
the world.

Then, with a yawn, they’re gone,
lost in the calm before the
dawn.

4.
Moths batter my window, blind-trying for
the great white light.
What I would swap for wings
and such simple ambition.