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STAYING DEAD

Don't you wish there 
was a button you 
could push to print 
out your dreams
those reams 
and reams of 
dreams with their 
ready solutions 
unavailable in 
waking life 
as the precious 
dead we love 
walk through in 
darkness.

The daylight can't
afford them.  
They return with 
their graceful
presence in the levels,
the corridors of
invention. It was
never their intention
to stay dead.  They
are not lost. There 
is no door they 
cannot open--
no threshold they 
cannot cross.  

And, at morning 
with your backpack
of dreams you 
lie across the bed 
and face into 
sunlight 
as it streams 
through a window-- 
its soft colors 
drifting under 
closed eyelids.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 12/30/2015 12:29:00 PM
love it, ... Happy New Years... Always ~LINDA~
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Date: 11/17/2015 9:33:00 AM
What a deep surreal poem Nola ... I can't quit reading it ... 7 Bev
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