On a Flying Bed
One night I found the old bed I used to sleep on,
got tired of lasting confinement, decided to fly out.
On wings of the bed-sheet turning a soaring swan
it started to flutter away before I could even doubt…
could a bed really become a flying bird?
I clutched in fear the flapping wings lest off I fall,
through my bemused eyes I looked up skyward,
saw the stars beckoning me as I heard their call.
The bed flew to an alien land beyond the globe,
where vermilion sun was stuck in silk sky all the hour.
The flying bed got wrapped up in a colorful royal robe,
landed softly on a crimson valley of flushing flower.
Encircled by fairies I fell asleep on the flower-decked bed,
the unseen dreams I left dormant in my room returned.
These were not in black and white, but in blazing red,
took kaleidoscopic shapes I desired, my heart patterned.
Mind needs to invent a flying bed in the realm of fantasy,
form dreams in color painted by heart in trance of ecstasy.
January 1, 2021
Word Count : 180 ( PS Word Counter)
Contest : Fantasy With Fictional Beings
Sponsor : Caren Krutsinger
Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2021
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