Jealousy.

The Coming of Light 

By Mark Strand 

Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light. 
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, 
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, 
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine 
and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.

I found this poem searching the internet and it caught my attention. 

I love how he jumps right into the poem and grabs your attention like 

he was already in the middle of a story. 

"Dreams pour into your pillows" is one of my favorite lines. 

It makes me picture that it's almost as if it's rain falling onto

the pillow.  Everything about this poem works perfectly; & it's SHORT. 

I love amazing short poems so much. 

I love how instead of bouquets of flowers he says "warm bouquets of air." 

It brings a whole new outlook of what a bouquet could be, 

and that it has a temperature. 

It's simply brilliant & leaves me filled with envy & jealousy.