Dreams
Dreams
Warm hand against her cheek awakens her from a deep sleep
Her eyes open slowly in the dark
There he is in a pitch black room golden as if the sun shines down upon him as he lays gazing at her
The look of love upon his face is extraudinairy
She blinks and he is gone
Eyes flutter shut and she wonders what angel came to visit her tonight as she falls back into slumber.
He is after all in the other room fast asleep.
Warm hand against her cheek awakens her from a deep sleep
Her eyes open slowly in the dark
There he is in a pitch black room golden as if the sun shines down upon him as he lays gazing at her
The look of love upon his face is extraudinairy
She blinks and he is gone
Eyes flutter shut and she wonders what angel came to visit her tonight as she falls back into slumber.
He is after all in the other room fast asleep.
posted by A Farce called Life at 6:00 PM
2 Comments:
You, my friend, are an enigma wrapped in a conundrum. But of course, I only know the bloggin' Morgan, the one who offers distilled glimpses of her complex and nuanced life.
Stars are a recurring theme in your posts. Do you see infinity in the night sky? Do you find comfort there? Like you, the universe is an enigma wrapped in a conundrum.
Maybe that's why I keep looking.
Amy, Amy, Amy.
Please accept my forgiveness....
I used to tell my students (who expected me to remember all sixty of their names by day two), that the best way to remember someone's name is to call them by the wrong one. Embarrassment is a very effective motivator.
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