Asleep I'll sit and smile at your closed eyes, think about wearing pigtails in your dreams and dancing around, wearing a puffy dress. Let's throw autumn leaves at each other like elementary school kids. I'll kick you in the shins because I like you. May I have this dance with your blue eyes? They move quickly left to right under their lids. We can waltz to your steady breath, your relaxed pulse. You'll be leading. All this I see revealed in the wriggling vines of the yellowed retro wallpaper in your room; your room in a house so old and clean that the only thing collecting dust is your grandma. I appreciate the color of that wallpaper. Only you can tolerate it because you're color blind. You'd mistake my pink dress for purple and doing so would make me laugh for a second or two, until it got old and I'd ask you to play on the seesaw. Even when sleepy, I'm like a five-year old with you. Still, I wish I could control your dreams on a mixing board; turning knobs and levers to make this fantasy of mine so real, that you'd wake up with my fuzzy pink hair-tie (the one that matches the tutu) in your hand.
Andrea Miranda
If you've any comments on this poem, Andrea Miranda would be pleased to hear from you.