My dreams are vivid again.
Not in colour just in pain.
Except last night, when I dreamt
of a chasm laced with darkness;
a darkness so inviting I dived in
– arms wide, left to right.
I fell and I floated
and I found myself
at the very bright, blue bottom.
A river turning emerald in the shallows.
At the mouth’s edge there stood an azalea tree.
Blooming in pink, pink, pink.
Blooming in softness and green
– thick, lush leaves.
The sun came down in orange slices,
playing dapple along
the ever moving shore and green.
And then I opened my eyes.
And no, the sun wasn’t shining.
And no, I did not seek answers in
the night which had passed.
I woke to grey and a dimly lit bedroom
and felt thankful no bones were broken
from the fall.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020