midnight and I'm supposed
to be dreaming.
about love. about romance.
about having waist length hair.
in this dream, if I were dreaming,
I would be walking and swishing
my glorious head of hair.
walking and swishing.
everybody lucky enough to have
a place in my dream would watch
me with two eyes from inside their
many amazed faces.
as I walk, they'd point. mounds of praise
would escape from their lips.
a jealous few would try to chase me
with a pair of scissors, but, I would escape.
you would be there too, pretending
not to notice. looking away as I pass.
but, my swishing would be too much for you
and you, too, would chase me down,
grabbing fistfuls of my hair. you'd build
a nest with it and live there forever
If you've any comments on
this poem, Lisa Zaran would be
pleased to hear from you.