The Dream I Had
The dream I had was of deep despair, of a gruesome lad who collected hair around him, around him. He's twisted minds and he's tortured thoughts, but he won’t get mine unless I'm caught around him, around him. It's a dream I'm sleeping through, it'll never, never, never come true, never, never, never come true. My body's still but my mind's awake, so I climb a hill just to see a lake, around me, around me. I'm left alone in a deep dark mist. I turn for home but the bed sheets twist around me, around me. This night time race has left Its mark. A frightening chase through shadows dark behind me, behind me. I carefully tread on the forest floor, when I turn my head he comes no more behind me, behind me.
© Tim Grace.
About the Creator
Tim Grace
A first impression has a lasting effect - it makes a notable difference. In a subtle way that’s who I am as a poet. A ‘first impression’ looking for the gentle ‘twist’ that draws attention to a novel observation.
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