A Dream Escapes
A dream escapes my
grasp of time,
I float, I float, I float blind.
Through kaleidoscope
scars I bear,
my fears mingle with
rattlesnake snares,
and ticking, spinning
clockworks chime and chime,
like death’s rasp, and repetitious
rhyme.
I’ll lend you these thoughts:
I keep them in a glass vile,
and I’ll wait for the best
moment to
shatter.
They’ll then ponder over
the matter,
as if they were sadder!
And say,
“What an accident, she was forgotten!”
But I dream, I dream of the dead.
Their dark whispers haunt
my books.
And I want to give them looks,
I want to tell them I feel.
And that I too see in hues
of vivid memory.
Copyright © Penny Montalvan | Year Posted 2010
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