There's another
world I visit
in my sleep
when the day's
constraints
are unbuttoned
and unzipped,
cast off to
crowd the laundry
in the hamper.
My pillow, like
a giant sponge,
sops up the
stress and worry,
spilling from an ear
or from my
cluttered mind.
There, life
is always fair
and good guys
finish first,
so my number
nearly always
wins the prize.
I fly on dragons,
a super hero,
or take magic carpet
rides, reading minds
and casting spells,
solving problems,
even mine.
Asleep, I'm safe,
and time
stands still.
Wrinkles are gone,
varicose veins
now beauty marks.
Mirrors are kind.
They say
I'm the fairest
in the land
and never
show me silver
in my hair,
while tiny genies
in my lamp
grant every wish.
That world
is a haven,
where I can live
in fairy tales,
or Peter Pan
in Neverland,
and watch as
angels weave
magic into love
and happy endings.
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