As the morning lingers on
in hues of red and orange
my dreaming soul clings past dawn
to keep my lonely spirit warm
The staple of my sanity
that feeds the hunger deep inside
and fulfills a broken vanity
is a vision of you at my side
Watering the ground where I grow
the garden of thoughts I tend
is the fluid and mystic river I know
just beyond my own heart's bend
There; words like fruit on the vine
ripen in sunlight through the day
and ready themselves for harvest time
as the moon draws near to hear what I say
ESTÁ A LER
Mystic River
PoesiaPoets are often connected to their dreams. They have a vivid and creative spirit. These poems share and explore that connection to an inner and mysterious place. What are dreams? Why do we dream? What purpose do dreams have? Explore these ideas with...
