The Answer is "Antidepressants"
A Poem
I dreamt of cucumberous folks
Who referred to each other as “blokes.”
Yes British cucumbers,
A townful I numbered.
Such creative thoughts sleeping can coax!
Yet, weirder it quickly became:
The ‘cumbers’ relations I blame.
These pickled cowboys
Rode on crackers for joys.
Not to tell the tale would be a shame.
So cousins, both pickled and non,
Ran ‘round in my head ‘til the dawn.
I woke with a grin;
Such a dream has no twin!
What a sleep! Now, what drugs was I on?
About the Creator
Brynne Nelson
I'm a writer. I'm a wife and a mom. I'm a human.
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