Laying in uneasy slumber,
she tosses and turns in a far too large bed,
One more night of many she awaits,
for the arrival of dawn,
when loneliness’ ghosts flee from light.
They dare not haunt when garish sun rises,
peeking sleepily over the horizon,
percolating coffee awakening a weary heart.
Between paying bills and feeding the baby,
daylight’s busy rhythm soothes midnight’s longings,
deep…deep…in her soul they are always present.
To reignite her inner magic kept alive,
in the dreams dancing around her tired head,
a spell cast by a dream weaver’s enchantment.
(c) Amanda Wilson 2013