Dream
Veroncia Garcia
Night blankets frost in beads,
like diamonds glittering in rainbows of cold
Thick silence hangs to smother people
to sleep, to a dream of forgotten times.
Dream . . . dream of cobble-stoned streets,
of children laughing,
of Mama's soft hands brushing your hair,
of Papa's mustache beaded with water.
Dream . . . dream of the wind kissing the chimes,
of rich Mexican foods and wine,
of proper handshakes,
of home.
Sleep . . . but don't let the dream die.
Sleep . . . and go far, far way.
Sleep . . . don't open your eyes.
Dream life away..........
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