The Dreamer

In poetry we hide our dreams

so nothing’s ever what it seems

and though it feels this meter’s tight,

between these iambs, there’s a fight -

two lovers sing their sunken themes,

his songs are whispers, hers are screams;

she shakes him but he still daydreams

of endless lovebirds taking flight

in poetry.

She has her sensible routines,

grows bored of his romantic schemes

and yet, too often, in the night,

she dreams of fictions they could write,

her bedroom lit up with moonbeams

and poetry.