Real

it is like the old stone 
hiding at the back of the hill in times
times that are but for fantasy.

it was another glimpse of her
a move to hold her 
ring hands of gold treasure...

just at time
it was time...
a time up...
O! it was the dream of the memory.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace