In the midst of writing an essay, this poem appeared.

I’m a dreamer
Dad once said he’d heard a poet wrote
“Don’t let dreams become your master.”
But I keep dreaming.

It’s 4am and I’m writing again,
Coffee aroma fills the air,
Words busting at the seams,
trying to gain access from my brain.
When I arose from a fitful sleep,
I remember a fleeting thought lingering
From the deep…and I had to write it down.
If memory serves correctly, I’ve had this dream before.

It’s 5am and I’m still at the keyboard,
Coast Guard must be on a search and rescue
I hear their helicopters, hovering overhead.
Why won’t someone rescue me with the words that
I need to write to save my soul to help me see the light.
Wake me, shake me, and let me move these poetic bones,
If memory serves me correctly, I’ve had this dream before.

Dan Johnson