Waking to a Dream

And now what,

as morning,

takes a dip,

in gentle rain,

after a restless night,

of searching for,

a comfortable place,

in the bed,

 waking to a dream,

of Morocco,

though I’ve never been,

it felt as though

I knew it well,

streets at dusk,

filled with fragrant smoke,

from vendors,

with shining eyes,

and a woman,

drawing with chalk

on a hillside, 

I stopped to watch,

and then,

I woke up,

disoriented,

finding myself,

here,

the morning

opening in slow motion,

to a gentle rain.

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