while you were sleeping

 

Give me your feverish thoughts

Mothballed & hand-stitched in grey

A cabin, circled by oak trees

The twilight sky on summer's day

Wheat field is warm as amber  

The roar of wind, hoots by owls

I will bottle it up with moss

And set it to sail at midnight

New moon is a goddess 

And stars are glowing fireflies

I watch it adrift on waves

As if time is a standstill, much

Like you, sleeping as a baby

The past clings to you, blanket

Where will the bottle go, I wonder 

There are no maps & shores to keep

Where will it land with no compass

Who will open it with excitement

Whose heart belongs amongst wildflowers

Or with questions, whose mind dwells

On clouds, or maybe it will be

You

Awakening, with eyes of child

You can recall 

Where you had put away 

the pen, that magical pen

Where you drew all your flights with joy

Chorus of birds sang with you all the way

Credit to Erik Johansson, Surreal Photography

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Slipping into Surreal Photography with Erik Johannson, hosted by Mish.   Join us for this wonderful prompt starting at 3pm EST.