Too much thought in too little head.
An early-morning chill returned,
still in the afternoon air.
It appeared they had been sleeping—
a pile of children huddled together, all
riddled by tiny flecks of glowing dreams.
A glimpse of light found its way inside
to see which face was hidden under the pillow.
A child rose from the floor still closing their eyes
and the chatter of thoughts inside their head
gradually wilted away.
Dreams are fleeting puzzles,
and we collect the pieces
we can put together.