Forgotten Dreams
I don’t remember my dreams.
I wake with a vague sense that I’ve seen
something more
of my brain
the consciousness of my inner self.
Or maybe the madness that I
lock away during the day
breaks down the walls at night while I’m asleep
and dances
leaving only a trace–
footsteps in the mud of memory.
Copyright © Gail Manwell | Year Posted 2024
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