what dreams

 

 

 

a writing desk ill named
sits littered like a forest in fall
covered in curling and useless pages

 

 
words flow on crumpled waterfalls
in a stream around the chair legs
and the water is oh so cold
 
through the window, hiding maybe
from the troubadour’s bane
a figure reclines atop an ancient picnic table
 
a smile blushes her cheeks
the observer left to wonder
what dreams fly to her there

 

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8 thoughts on “what dreams

  1. Beautiful! I love the idea of the dreams flying to the lady through the observer’s eyes. Almost unreal in many ways with this poem.

    I just adore the romanticism behind it – appeals to the soppy side in me! It’s just lovely to read something as etherial and dream-like as this. Very distracting 🙂

    Sascha x

  2. oh i love this… and i sooo need to get something together for beamans site.. he is such a sweetheart,, and i have just been to wrapped up in off topic stuff as of late… maybe tomorrow….

  3. The imagery in this poem is amazing. I especially like the forest and waterfall analogies. Along with the picture, this poem is one to savour for it is extremely beautiful.

    Great writing

  4. Pingback: Poetry Prompt Round-Up 4 | Pen Me A Poem

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