Teetering Dream
Cocooned beneath warm silky bedding
Soundly nestled in dream’s quiet moment
Neither purged from silence nor the chatter of an awaked world
My soul engulfed- now doth begin the teetering dream
Whither I am smiling or running- tumbling or soaring
Erupts the moment of a rattling bell
My dreams flee like sparks from a roaring fire
morning’s pains seemingly swell as a title wave
As senses hinge between dream and reality
First sitting-than standing
I binge- begging then beseeching in recollecting the tilted dream now slipping
Trying to summon its phenomenon, its question, the mystery, the implied sensations
All the while reaching to turn off the rattling of reality
Do I awake to the noise of a new day
Angerly have I forgotten all.
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
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