Dream a Little Dream
Dream a Little Dream Still water runs lightly over a soup of hard shells and things that bite runs imperceptibly into swamps back out to sea salinity inviting coverups Of course, I think of my mother who grows somehow profound in time I didn’t give her much when young She could sing I gave her that but all her maddening ways ensured my sense of superiority a royal gem of a gift for a daughter She had such a fluid sense of home switched houses like a crab Still a teen, I put a whole country between us never dreaming she’d set up house in me start singing those 40s songs in me stir up the salt though I am so far inland here stars fade but she lingers on How at this late stage do I become her daughter, sing along? S. Robbins from Readings
Sherry Robbins 
I miss Dorothy. Thank you for sharing.
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Thanks, Al. I miss her too. She would have loved to meet Astrid.
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