Weakened sunlight through the cloudy dawn
gives minimal light to a long, long night
and breaks into my mind,
a landscape hazy, but showing promise.
A seahorse cloud, a darker grey,
moves gracefully across the bed of
cream colored fluff that is its ocean
and is viewed by my tired soul through a window.
A gliding, flowing seahorse cloud,
sent for me, special, that morning,
to float my heart and bring
the lost smile back to my tired, pale face.
It slides and moves just like real,
and stays in my vision, a lifting tribute
to possible, wondrous dreams,
not yet even imagined.