Scrolls of Dreams
Like small waves in the ocean, the
curtains blow back from a breeze so tender...
Through my soul silent whispers travel
and are placed where they slowly surrender...
Behind my eyes the small echo of chimes
dance to a moving sound...
And my hand starts to glide across a slippery
page that bleeds so proud...
And now I'm left with scrolls of dreams that
never made it to the night...
Just a poet who walks and breaths through a
window of second sight...
Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2012
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