Beach
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This poem is about a dream, a dream used to conquer a nightmare.
I am in a wheelchair, although that is not really important, it is for this poem though, now you know it you may perhaps recognize.
BEACH
These two lines behind me are not exactly straight
Nor am I, exactly straight. Curving, circling near
The land wash, softly humming, sun on my curls.
Trailing a whole new meaning into tracks.
This dream land gives me free hand designing
To my liking. Shells, mother of pearls, shore
Littered with creatures distracting positively
into curiosity. Is that how to fight fake reality?
With magic that defies? Created by me?
These wheels do not sink into soft sand, strongly
Carrying slight weight, turning, trying dancing,
Not straight, exactly how it should be.
Exactly how I kill the dream with a slight
Wave of my hand, a curt nod of dismissal.
Nothing to spoil this castle on this beach,
And the comforting murmur of the sea.
***
4th place in Contest: Your First Entry on the Soup
Sponsor: White Wolf
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016
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