You are restless once again, as one day changes into another. I watch, as you roll about the bed, take up the most space, leave me with an inch or two along the side. In the darkness of the night, I watch as your mind fills with images of the past and unknown future. You wake, but for a moment from vaporish, shady dreams with a cast of suspects, who will make appearances in a poem. On a bad night, you will relive the past, make amends, on a good night, visons of splendor. Your dreams are technicolor aspirations. Your courage never dissipates. I am awake most of the night, as you rock and roll about the bed in the flora and fauna of your mind. I thought I should let you know that I appreciate the passion of your dreams, of you, of your life.
