This poem was inspired by how often I’ve been frustrated by forgetting great dreams I’ve had in the night. Enjoy!
I sleep, a dream floats o’er my head,
Bedazzled with a dozen shifting hues,
A hundred scenes and points of view,
Swirling just above my bed.
Opaque and colourful, shining bright,
The dream is oh-so-gently creeping
Clouding, bunching, (while I’m sleeping)
In opal-gilded creamy white.
Scenes are changing all around me,
Strange vignettes meet my eyes.
Such intricacy do I surmise!
What odd beauties surround me!
But oh – confused, troubled, I frown,
And tangled, I sit up in bed,
Striking the delicate dream with my head,
The fragile thing falls to the ground.
With a gasp, it shatters with colours and sparks,
Cracked in a million, million shards.
Although the carpet is not hard,
Dreams can be crushed by touch or dark.
Gleaming, and sparkling, the pieces land,
Bouncing on the carpet once.
So sharp they make a fang look blunt,
But smooth and cool to careful hands.
Whole, then broken; now gone forever,
Some shreds melt away, too small to be seen.
I pick up the fragments of my broken dream,
And try to piece it back together.
Like it? Comment! Have a wonderful day. 😀
Original poem by Kiwi. Copyright 2017.