Little Dreams

Child Guinivere cries in her sleeping,

Undulating beneath the damp thick of sweat.

Her chest quavers in fear of dreams dark.

Hidden below her pillow, silvery sharks slash babies to tears.

Somewhere, in a place dry,

Dragons do scorch and rear to save.

Burgeoning, inaccessible truths.

False calamity awaits her slumber,

Mother goose, to mollify, awaits,

Spinning the spun across the wreck of youthful aware.

Her hands, in shade of pink, caress to comfort the fear.

Web of black sky broken in clouds

quick to pace,

Fish-eye hook of a moon milking the mask of bleak.

Inside the hearts and minds of children,

is chance of requite,

Fervent love bedded beneath their simple hopes.

Keen of the “it”, too keen for it

Swimming a little harder now.

Then, from the folds of sheet, a child awakes with aged eyes.