Emile Pinet Poet Sonnet

A Box Of Crayons

When I'm dreaming, I sometimes fantasize
about opening a box of crayons.
And my subconscious scribbles sapphire skies,
coloring dreams in shades of gold and bronze.

Pastels and vivid pigments color thoughts,
using imagination as a brush.
And shades float like a flotilla of dots
inked in the brightest hues, and faintest blush.

My inner child scribbles between the lines,
drawing pictures no one but me has seen.
And yet abstract: accurately defines
that magical landscape of in-between.

A box of crayons inks my dreams at night;
filling my inner child with sheer delight.

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Quoth Theraven September 1, 2025 at 5:54 PM Emile, Enjoyed the wild and wonderful spontaneity written between this poem's imaginative pages. Never let go your inner child. -Richard Emile Pinet September 2, 2025 at 7:18 AM Thank you, Richard. I appreciate your comments, my friend. Emile.

John Hamilton June 13, 2025 at 6:42 PM A wonderful write Emile I enjoyed the journey back to the time when crayons stirred the imagination! Emile Pinet June 14, 2025 at 7:59 AM Thank you, John. I appreciate your comments, my friend. Emile.

Darlene De Beaulieu June 12, 2025 at 1:36 PM Hello Emile, Did you see colour in your dream? or was it a bit foggy? I am just wondering. my friend. Enjoy your day. Darlene/ Darlene De Beaulieu June 13, 2025 at 10:00 AM Hello Emile, Okay thank you for letting me know. You are welcome my friend, enjoy your day. /Darlene/ Emile Pinet June 13, 2025 at 8:24 AM Thanks for your comments, Darlene. This is just a poem, not a personal experience, my friend.