She sleeps
soft and buried,
under blankets, over pillows.
All around her sounds of hurried
mouse paws prancing on the tiles
warm and live, their tails
are swimming like her dreams,
their squeaking is lost to her mind.
Her body heavily breathes.
Inside, the colors are creating
patterns for her pleasure,
while another melody is playing
to which her mice's
tails are swaying.

But now they lay together
in a shaded brown tuffet.
Each little rise and fall
of every tiny chest warms
the room and sets the
frost on the window to
dripping and puddling on the sill.
Then she awakes into a
soft warm world full of
whiskers and pillows

In the Offing

In the Forests of her Dreams,
She gives life to all the Secrets
That are blowing through the leaves.
She sings alone among the trees.

In the Meadows of her Mind,
She ambles through the Memories
Of regret and joy entwined,
Leaving faint traces none will find.

In the Ocean of her Heart,
Soft, timid Loves swim in the brine.
Shyly–they, to shadows dart.
She quiets, lest again they start.

In the Tower of her Soul,
Forgotten Treasures must she guard.
In the silence bright tears show,
Burning her cheeks like lighted coals.