The Colors Dreams Hide In

Dreams don’t come in black and white.

They slip through the cracks of waking life,

wearing shades no eye has ever seen—

a twilight blue that hums like a lullaby,

a golden haze that smells of distant summers,

a green so soft it feels like moss beneath your feet.

Some dreams wear the pink of nostalgia,

blooming like petals in forgotten gardens,

while others hide in the storm-grey of fear,

their shadows stretching long and cold.

There’s the crimson flash of longing,

an ember of a face you almost remember,

and the pearlescent shimmer of joy,

fleeting, elusive, gone by morning.

But some dreams— some are painted in colors unnamed,

hues that dissolve when the sun rises,

like the purple-orange of a horizon that only exists between sleep and waking.

If I could bottle these colors,

I’d keep them in glass jars on my windowsill,

tiny universes of all I’ve ever hoped for,

all I’ve ever feared.

But instead, they fade,

slipping through my fingers like sand,

leaving behind the faintest tint of wonder,

of what could have been.

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The Colors Dreams Hide In – A Poem by Samantha Syrnich