a soft light, a scent in the air

(on the way home from NJ to NYC today, having had only 4 hours of sleep last night, i dozed off on the train and had a…flash dream, i suppose, which inspired this poem)

i think my psyche is a girl
who’s tall and slender and has curls
she never says a word to me,
always shows me what i must see:

she creates castles out of sand
then spills them with a wave of hand
she shows me clouds on days so grey
then with a breath blows them away

she knows that i will make mistakes
(and some will lead to bad heartaches)
all i know is she knows me well
and she knows much that she won’t tell,
like when i tripped and when i fell—