SWEET SPIRIT

Mom and I
off adventuring
again last night.
She comes to me often
while I sleep.
We go exploring.

I can't really say
where we go,
or what we do,
the details fade too quickly.

The amber residue of dreams.
The feeling of her presence,
the echoes
of shared laughter
reverberating
in my soul.


(c) 5.20.01

(two weeks of dreams the end of April in 2001 - One month since Mom's been gone.)