Moments on end

My sleep is minimal. I understand the value of time. We define it with watches and clocks but it's more than that. It's the heartbeat of motion, the swerving car and split moment that will determine the hit or miss of a small child.

I understand memories; that they tarnish and fade dim
and that words added to paper polish them up.
Scents and smells do the same - the really special ones
are rediscovered by chance.

Dreams

My dreams are like doors
Slamming in the wind.
Closed, open, shut tight, flung wide
Creaking.

With no clasp to shut them right.