My dreams come in colors now,
All painted vividly in my dreams to see.
There are reds, yellows, and blues,
Like none that on earth would I'd ever see.
They take all night for their colors to become,
All forming a picture of a daily moment reborn.
Where do dreams come from?
And where do they go?
Some I remember so clearly,
And the others, ' I don't know? '
I sometimes write them down,
As soon as I arrise.
And other times I can't remember,
Those dreams in mind that hide.
But their colors I will clearly remember,
As if I painted one and all.
They take away the black and greys,
That might have been painted on dream walls.
They're colors of childhood monsters,
And of creatures that I feared.
But that was just sin inside,
In just its uglyness appeared.
For color is God's saving grace,
He has placed that in us all.
No more dreams of darkness to be seen
For there is God's color in them all!
Linda Winchell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/colored-dreams/
