Scraps of Dreams Unfolding

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Old words coughed

Over lovers and friends

Surface during sleepless nights

On paper pressed into silent years

Of a spiral notebook.

These memories are not new —

The forms are old

And need to be discarded

With a slash of the pen

Across my face and heart.

Digital thoughts emerge,

Crowding the night,

Searching the space between

My husband and me,

Between our dogs and us.

No epiphanies here —

Just scraps of dreams unfolding

In a crowded bed.