What Was
was not
fading into past, dreams
dreams spent
mist hovers o'r a
lake, haze of light
crystal ice, natures true grip
fear may delight
blight ensues; dreams chased
doves coo, peace hues
outcry
in the lie is the wake
take up, sip from a cup
wry is the path
wyvern came with barbed tail
a tale that quaked.
shake loose and emerge from the lake
of dreams or so it seems.
Copyright © Joel Hunt | Year Posted 2012
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