I woke up from
a dream, crying
and asking for

water—the last time
it was ice cream
and new papers

father bought
for my birthday
he said, build

aeroplanes and
watch your dream
fly: the house

was quiet, the
trees were not
—when is daddy

coming back, I leaned
into mother touching
her breast as if

I forgot something
she kissed my nose
and went to the door

the rains were here