dreams

Dreams come and come again
sometimes
till they find their way in
like rhymes.
They play and replay on
like songs.
Holding memory space
so long
that friends of old
they seem,
the lessons of
the dreams,
resurfacing till when
a new dream comes
and then
it comes and comes again
till when
the lesson learned seems
just a dream.
Part of me,
like an old song
on my internal radio,
repeating, repeating.