I Dream Her Own Dream
And Mother shifts her face against cerulean breeze,
tasting the lethargy among insolent gusts
while she heaves quietly of the moment,
renewing her senses
through a warm elixir for lonely thoughts,
delicately cleansing snarled reflections
and disheveled pauses...
faint wicker impairs kiln of hope
as uncertain answers grow dim
tasting slow breath flowing from her soul.
I dreamed about her own dream restored,
that she hears my silent words
her own boney figure collapsing --
while dire aspiration weakens
like vague heartbeats into nights benumbed
and under panels of glass,
I realize she has learned to pray with me in the rain.
For Silent One : I Dreamed A Dream Contest
2/19/2019
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2019
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