Dreams... and about them

I guess you'll get it now.
You'll get it soon
Why these water-colored dreams,
And whichever naïve fingers
Draw these lines without plans,
Just for the heck of it,
Wake me cold on a summer night.
You'll get a hang of the fact
That rainbows, horizons,
Meandering long voyages,
Remind me of the basement
That has sheltered me
During my stay with you..
You'll stop, perhaps, nodding me
To beat all blues
And see colors ahead -
Though its common knowledge
That crayon smeared dreams,
And whatever facade they may put on,
Are, in fact,
Shapeless, colorless - lightless.

Silence speaks,
And two consequent sundays
May always be poles apart.