My dreams are poems
Righting themselves upside down
in Not-for-long Ville.
Still fresh with relief
when I wake I take a pen
so I may keep them.
But the poems fade
faster than the dream even
when I whisper, “Don’t.”
What’s left then, but last
night’s dream, which will never be
anything more than
4 thoughts on “The after-taste of a dream”
The last line is especially good. “More than”.. Leaves us just wondering, and that is a great way to end this
Yes! I love the rhythm and your description of dream-inspired sleep writing is spot on 🙂
Thank you. (I think you were in my dream last night. As Silver Leaf. But I can’t remember the details. Maybe it will come out as a poem.)