Day shift

All my dreams gave notice and quit. It's empty on the factory floor each night, no magic to make or supervise. But in the day, those dreams come by. Disheveled, ghastly in the light, they grouse a bit and beg for change. I tell them, please! Come back to work! I'd be so glad to take you back. You played so well by dim limelight. By daylight, you're simply not believable. They look at me strange, as if I came from a world that had lost its soul, its shadow, its reflection and gone looking for it in theirs. But I'm sure it was the other way round