Shuffling The Deck

Atop the sheets and beneath
a rotating
ceiling fan, you await sleep.

Eyes closed, cards are turned
over from today’s
shuffled deck of memories.

A laughing sunburnt child
dressed in yellow
is tonight’s unexpected ace.

In the mind’s eye, her shock
of reddish hair
flickers like a struck match.

Whether a dream’s beginning
or true recall,
in the dark, either is possible.

Six bedroom windows thrown
open transmit
the night in surround sound.

A soundtrack, you can almost
hear the embroidering
movement of insects outside.

If only you could read their
tenuous voices like
a bedtime story to that child.

This last thought, shuffled
back into the deck,
will be forgotten by morning.

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