I believe there will be birds singing outside my window when I awake.
After a night of falling stars, there will be diamonds in the downspout,
and my newspaper will arrive wrapped in a silk ribbon.
The milkman will bring cappuccino and truffles
And the bus will wait at my corner, saving me the front seat.

You scoff at this, thinking I am mad

But you have never woken to find your dream
Bringing the sunlight into your bedroom
and coffee to your table.