That first smack of water <br />from the tap against the tile <br />is where it all ends as day begins. <br /> <br />Liquid visions of night-drugged dreams <br />roll down the shower glass and slide <br />into the gulf of morning. <br /> <br />I imagine diligent facts, random genius, <br />clever retorts swelling together <br />in some ethereal ocean, memories reaching skyward <br />as tiny peaks on its surface. <br /> <br />Standing naked halfway between sleep <br />and reason, senses freed of sense, <br />my toes touch the tips of imagination. <br /> <br />How I long to grip sleep's splintery oars <br />where, settled in my little blue rudderless boat, <br />I set sail to ride the tides of my dreams.<br /><br />Lori Boulard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-argument-for-baths/
