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Dreams Once Dreamt

It is these things that make me toss and turn at night

By Anne van AlkemadePublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 1 min read
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Who’s awake instead of sleeping

Hears the click of old father time?

Who is listening to rain that’s falling

And cool, dark night, at peace sublime?

Who is reaching for dreams aflight,

Outstretched fingers pass through mist

As though their wishes can’t quite form

And all desires an imagined tryst?

I can hear you call my name

Though small your voice now may seem

A child still there though I am grown

And I remember all those hopes and dreams.

It is these things, these memories

That make me toss and turn at night.

Without my childlike naivety

Became a jaded fancy flight.

sad poetry
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