Not exactly a dream.

“We can always meet again in dreams”

She comes to sit by me
blond-haired and quiet
tall and pensive, longlimbed,
my strong willed lifeline.
I’m sitting back-to-wall
little monsters purr-curling
around my ankles,
not biting, just waiting,
eyes wide-yellow.
She settles down, her hand
on my arm, steadying us both,
and says, voice accented,
You can’t help them all,
you know. You shouldn’t have to.
It’s too much for one girl.
But you’re trying, aren’t you?
Of course, I say, to her,
and to the other people’s problems
(little monsters purr-curling)
that now surround us both.
I have to. You did. Remember?
I remember, she says, softly.
And I understand.
I touch her hand, and smile –
and wake, but know
I’ll see her again soon,
in dreams.