Dream Poem

A poem came to me last night
as I lay asleep and dreamed.
It tossed and turned inside my head,
from side to side, it seemed.
It rose, becoming brighter
and then it gently faded
then wrote itself in manuscript
entirely unaided.

Forget the actual story line,
I can't recall it right
but the pictures that it painted
in the dark and chilly night
were graceful, warm and comforting,
a treasure there to keep.
It whispered on so quietly
'till I was fast asleep.

- by Prajna Pranab, 1980s