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Even Dreams Wax Poetic
Folder:
Poems About Poetry/Writing Sleepy thoughts border on verse
and hang like an unfinished sonnet
on torn and timeworn parchment.
Rhyme plays about
romping through slumbering eyes
and tickles the inside of my lids.
In the land where sandman reigns,
inky rivers flow continuous,
snaking in scripted currents.
And it is there, upon river I sit,
huddled inside a concocted raft,
a solitary quill, my oar of navigation.
With slow and purposeful strokes,
I make my way along each journey,
mentally charting my course.
The breezes of idea move me along
in lackadaisical motions
as I hone in upon my craft.
I become one with the rise and fall of tides
in a place where even in repose,
dreams wax poetic.
