You play violin concertos in my dreams.
You’re the one all the children follow out
of town, not that crusty Pied Piper;
you have the halo of red hair
and chocolate eyes - how can they resist?
Just when the children crowd me out
your bow taps me on the head
over the brats’ heads and I step through
the midget crowd. You start with a slow
melody, bow to me, lead me out your window
and just when I feel like I’m falling
your sleepy arm pulls me close in bed
and I wake up. I yawn. “I dreamed you
were singing to me,” you smile. “And then I almost
fell off a trapeze.”
“We were both falling,” I cuddle into the crook
of your arm. You kiss my head. “Don’t stop falling.”

06/22/2007

Posted on 06/22/2007
Copyright © 2026 Lisa Marie Brodsky