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
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