Ripples

Last night I dreamt I stood
between an old woman and a child
in a place where the black ground
rippled like water.
You hurried past us, no backward glances,
leaving a stormy wake.
The child shrieked after you
stomping out large ripples, uncomprehending.
The old woman watched you go, silent.
Her tears made plinking tiny ripples.
You didn't notice, and she,

unlike the child, was unsurprised.
I made no ripples at all.

The dream turned on its head,
changing black to white,

and in that surreal moment,
I was both old woman and child.