The Beholder
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
however big and bold,
that is what I may well of been told,
in this life of old.
Trying to awaken my consciousness,
for I must be comatosed,
surely I am not in the living world,
my head must be in the clouds.
I wake up in a sweat,
not knowing what has just happened,
it all seems so surreal,
do I stand in judgement or appeal.
Piecing together my thought processes,
was it a dream or a reality,
wishing, thinking of my grandmother watching over me,
sending me a sense of calm and peace.
I will stay with that thought,
that beautiful vision,
of my grandmothers mission,
to deliver peace and harmony to a muddled brain.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
