waiting to be born again
she bent over and whispered into my ear
and I heard every single word she said
but I did not move and barely breathed
it was as if I was trapped in a daydream
and every single person I ever knew
walked past me as I lay dying
there was so much work left to be done
unfinished landscapes and hidden rainbows
manicures and photographs
dusty bookshelves and unlit candles
holograms and talismans dangled before me
like a mobile swaying above a bassinet
and then I realized this was not a dream
but rather I was being drawn
back inside of her
june two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
An excellent poem – your metaphor works extremely well.
Thank you so much for commenting on this piece, Chris. I appreciate your support, it means so much to me.
fabulous and then some…
thank you very much, Bonnie – I am appreciative and grateful for your support
YAVW. ❤️