A lover’s dream
is seldom
a place of rest.

To seek solace
in night’s slumber
when the soul burns
so very hot with passion
is not only the ambition
of fools,
but a senseless surrender
to the merciless whims
of faceless and taunting sandmen.

Sandmen are noisy, impish
creatures of the night;
creeping elves of mischief
preying without remorse
upon any Romeo
who would foolishly seek
the false serenity
of love-drenched sleep.

Sandmen are always laughing,
as well they should,
at the provocative union
of love and dreams.

The temptations are too great.

Beware then
torch-bearers of unspent desire –
never surrender
frustrated consciousness
to the trust and care
of such cruel artisans
such as those
that paint your dreams.