Irridescent dreams
float through every night.
Of those once loved and lost,
they haunt me and I wake up to cry.
One is where my parents die.
Another, I lose my lover.
Vivid are the ones I'm holding my baby up high.
Others are opportunities I may have passed by.
Memories are what become of these.
Realities felt like puzzle pieces.
Dreams that feel real.
Melancholy do my days float unoticebly by.
Images from my dreams, always passing.
Keeping me from seeing through the haze.