moon child

amidst the random faces and images which swarm through my dreams
I latch onto a few particular ones
the most unlikely it always seems
I wish could grasp them in my fingers
to study and savor
and when I awake a trace of one lingers
but once the sunlight stampedes into my room
rudely shattering my dream with the intrusion
the stories always end abruptly in some premature and curious conclusion
I wake to find my precious dreams scattered and lost
never to be retrieved in their original form
washed away as if swallowed by a hungry storm
so in my bitter disappointment
turning over in my bed, burying my face in the pillow
I hide my weary head