I believe there will be
birds singing outside my window
when I awake.
After
a night of falling stars, there will be diamonds in the downspout,
and my newspaper will arrive wrapped in a silk ribbon.
The
milkman will bring
cappuccino and truffles
And
the bus will wait at my corner, saving me
the front seat.
You scoff at this, thinking I am mad
But you have never woken to find your dream
Bringing the sunlight into your bedroom
and coffee to your table.