A DreamA Poem by Steve KittellA
page from my book of dreams; a
tale of love, or so it seems. I
wake each day the dream doesn't end. Will
she ever love me or shall I just pretend?
Technicolor
visions and her scent in the air Awaken
from this dream I could never dare. Her
touch always welcome on my trembling skin. When
she says she loves me, my life will then begin.
Encounters
of the flesh, too few to ever last. Music
of her voice now echoes of the past. Sunlit
voids surround were daylight once was bright. Now only darkness brightens our rendezvouses of
night.
The
End Sck101114 © 2014 Steve Kittell |
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Added on October 11, 2014 Last Updated on October 11, 2014 AuthorSteve KittellIn the shadow of Windmill Cottage, East Greenwich, RIAboutHaving suffered almost fifty years of writers block I'm back, picking up exactly where I left off, as a mischievous five year old. Current chidren's poems can be seen at: http://www.childrens-stori.. more.. |

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