Chasing runaway dreams,
Looking for footprints on cold winds,
Reaching out a clumsy hand to grasp a gossamer gown,
Of the, oh so evasive, dear lady Sleep.
Turning over fallen leaves,
To find the spilt drops of imagination;
Rolling away, just out of reach.
Peeping inside unopened rose buds,
Hoping to catch a glimpse of a shy desire of passion,
Hiding in the yet coveted fragrance of the innocent petals.
Sitting under the starry sky, watching the night fold, like a letter, eagerly yet lovingly,
From a loving heart to yet another one.