Dream

I awake from a dream
I cannot remember:
Its tendrils are heavy
around my mind, but
the reality has all departed.
Residual emotions dissipate
as I get on with my morning.
This is like life, I think,
so full of meaning,
so rich in imagery,
yet all of it evaporates
like the steam from the
kettle with which I make
my morning coffee.
At least that tastes real.

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