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