She dreamed of walking on clouds
Gliding, floating, soaring.
Life seemed abundantly blissful.
Fueled by the dreams that resided in her head.
With a subtle curtsy, she entered the cutting room floor.
All eyes dazed and confused, wide and wandering.
Not a soul said a word, for the dove had made its entrance clear.
Life is only a matter of the dreams that bring forth no response.
If only things had been different.
If only the clicking of her heels across the marble floor
Had peered upon the pinpricks of her destiny..
Maybe her dreams of peace wouldn't be so far away.
She sway to the subtle change in tune,
Eyes drifted, head back, forehead to the heavens
Life couldn't be easier, life couldn't be more forthright.
The dreams that lay away in her mind couldn't compare
To the jaws that grazed the cutting room floor.
To dance, to dream. They never understood.
To hide, to laugh. It was all foreign.
What was a dream, if not provocative, yet sweet?
What was life, if not musical, yet silent?
YOU ARE READING
Eclectic Dreams
Poetrythey told me I would never write again. they told me that whoever would read these words would steal them and run off like a thief in the night. thankfully, i chose to ignore my fears, sit down, and prove them wrong.
