Dream Walk

Tell me

did I walk

into that dream

last night . . .

or did

that dream walk

into me?

Like hard rain it pounded

at my window glass

ready to shatter all

that I believe my life to be.

I fight

trying to hold onto

my cells and my skin

even though these bones

are beginning to wane

and settle into a soft

comfortable clump.

What will become of me

when I can no longer see

beyond this shell I knew

so well as Me?

What will become of

those dreams I thought

were mine?

Joanne Cucinello  ©  2013