My coins are round and silver like the moon.
Cool and flat, I finger them in my pocket.
I consider what I may buy at the market.
What will I trade my coins for?
Maybe some rich delicious snack?
Maybe a bobble, a trinket on string,
Some colorful yarn with a feather attached
Which the market man tells me will catch my dreams at night
So that I can make them come true.

But I think if I'm going to have to make my dreams come true, myself,
I would rather have the ones I dream about in the day,
The ones I see with my eyes wide open.
Those visions gleam back at me.
They smile and nod.
They tell me to keep those cool flat shimmering slivers of the moon
All to myself,
Safe in my pocket,
While I stroll through the market
Without ever saying a word.

-jenn