My Dream Is Not A Poem

We were on a barge in the bay on a gray day.

I looked out at the deck of the barge, through the window in the cabin, and sipped my tea.

My son was reading a book on the wrap-around white leather sofa, the sun breaking through the clouds.

A lion got up on the sofa and laid with his head in his lap. My daughter came in (out?) and sat next to my son at a right-angle to him, where the sofa turned a corner. She had my son's Ginger kitty on her lap.

Ginger and the lion shared a slow blink, and a female Cardinal landed on the lion. Her mate wasn't far away.

And they just sat.

For the record, I know that what I saw in my dream was a yacht, not a barge. I don't think barges come with the leather package, or go out in the sea, for that matter (but maybe they do?). But the word my head used in the dream was "barge," hence it was a luxury barge we were on. On the seas. In my dream.