and fanged, sitting atop the window
in my bedroom. Was I eight then?
I didn’t believe in dreams, only
head down, follow the path, and survive,
holding close that sense one day,
I would travel beyond this horizon.
A decade later or so, my dreams filled
with the structure of an atom,
me inside, the walls inexorably closing.
I could not breathe.
I could not breathe.
When I woke that morning,
I knew it was time to leave.
Then, I met you. I saw my dreams
in your eyes and with your laughter.
For nearly fifty years, we’ve
danced our way around the world.
I haven’t seen that witch for a very long time,
not until I look in the mirror, and I realize
I am my dreams.
I knew it was time to leave.
Then, I met you. I saw my dreams
in your eyes and with your laughter.
For nearly fifty years, we’ve
danced our way around the world.
I haven’t seen that witch for a very long time,
not until I look in the mirror, and I realize
I am my dreams.
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| Photo by The Pixelman (Pixabay) |
Today's prompt for National Poetry Month comes from NAPOWRIMO and asks us to remember/write about images in a dream.
I enjoyed this. Our dreams are us and we are them.
ReplyDeleteOh I LOVE this. It reminds me a bit of Sylvia Plath's "Mirror" poem only much MUCH brighter and hopeful. What a tribute to your husband! What a gift you have!!! Keep sharing!
ReplyDeleteDefinitely made me smile and remember the lovely times we have had with you and Allen. It has been too long since we have been in the same room. Let us hope we can be together again someday.
ReplyDelete