Monday

Bright lights, of a stage perhaps,

Hands in the silence slap,

It was blue and it was dark,

And sometimes I forget your remark,

I love you, you said,

And from your eyes tears bled.

I knew you then, but never again,

What sleep weaves, wake mends.

Nothing is what it will always mean,

For it is forever just a dream.

Reviews

[hanir]

This is such a wonderful emotional piece!
Nicely written!
😊

[Sally Hope]

"Tears bled"... Such beautiful and interesting choice of words. I really liked this. This feels both very simple and very personal, at the same time. Great job. Keep posting.

[Roger Turgeon]

What sleep weaves, wake mends......Nothing is what it will always mean,

Two great lines here. I am more impressed by their far reaching implications than the rest of the poem. I guess that's because the ending seemed to be for everyone and the beginning just for you.