When I Lay Down
A tapestry of clouds
Gathered like blue-gray smoke
That bellowed from a cigar
Made in Havana
A sea of mountains
Rise up like Mythological Gods and
Jagged edges made of
Dark-brown German chocolate
A gust of peppermint air
Shakes loose the weak branches of
A wild sycamore tree
Then a jubilant display of radiant
Light burst through bashful clouds
Awakening a field of orange-gold poppies
When I lay down,
Both feet are planted firmly on the ground
Copyright © Gregory Golden | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment