I'm building these dreams
out of my dream houses
with its walls lined with bookshelves
(that you built me)
to hold my manuscripts of stories
(I wrote about us)
in its enchanting nooks and crannies
and open white spaces
with no walls between us
 some nights it tumbles
some nights the walls
and the noises of your music
wears me thin
and I cradle my head and wonder what I have gotten myself into again
then I slip inside my dream
and there you are
in real life
and its one and the same and I am thrilled
to be dreaming once again.