I dreamt of a rose covered land: Redder than cherries in bowls made of sand. There I flung flame from my fingers: There, budding buttercups were singers: The sky bent like a bow: When I awoke, the ceiling hung very low, And my head was popped out the window. Stars were shining in daylight. Owls were crowing like roosters. Till I pulled the band that bent my face Back into place: Then the world snapped back into place: But when I pulled the band again, I again dreamt of the land.
Reason for writing:
I have no poems in front of me, but I had this one
memorized: one of the few of my own that I have memorized.
I hope readers will enjoy it. I have had these poems I've
written in my closet, collecting dust for four years: s I'd
figure I'd make an effort to send some of them out over the
internet: hopefully, people will enjoy them.
Birth sign: Not entered
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