A dream in three movements

No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. We are the dreamers and the dreamed, the meal and the eater, forever spinning between hunger and home.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

The dream whisperer hovers near me

From a strange dream that didn't make any sense

toss and turn does no good but makes worry tolerable.