Dreaming | Teen Ink

Dreaming

January 12, 2010
By MusicIsForever BRONZE, Portland, Maine
MusicIsForever BRONZE, Portland, Maine
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Life isn't fair... but it should be."
-- MusicIsForever


Color fills my room
Familiar color
Dull color
Lying on my comforting bed, seeming as if the feeling I am getting is coming from the bed's warm words, expressed by the sound of movement against the sheets
Cool sheets, made from the earth and into a vibrant pink
I look around my room with dis-interest
I focus on one object
A rubber duck on a key chain
The silver chain and ring glimmer slightly from the rays of sun slipping through my white and chipped blinds
The duck sits on my gorgeous white wood desk, expressionless
Its eyes stare straight into nothing
Its mouth is opened slightly as if he is about to speak, to tell the truth about its existence
Its small golden-yellow body is wide and plump. The key chain rests on it's left round wing
I begin to wonder... to fall into the depths of my mind
My eyes close from exhaustion and I succumb to my will to dream
...
.......
...
Slowly I open my eyes, adjusting to what little light fills the room from the street lamps outside
I sit up and am in my room once more, the sun's rays are gone for night has come
The yellow duck still sits patiently on my desk
I look around, and slowly pull myself onto my feet
My ears pick up a soft sound
My curiosity leads me downstairs towards the daunting front entrance
I reach over to turn the brass doorknob and am overwhelmed by the icy acknowledgment from it
Still I pull the door open and am greeted by warm air drifting towards me by the faint breeze, and few stars that shine through the thick white clouds
I walk onto the pavement which pokes at my feet
My ears search for the faint noise, expecting it to be louder
My eyes obey my demand to keep them open, although they have a strong will to close
I wait for what seems like endless time
Stars begin to illuminate quickly as the breeze picks up and moves the clouds slowly across the rich indigo sky
My senses begin to grow tired and I begin to wish myself to unconsciousness once more

The author's comments:
This poem was written on a dull day when I was in my room and began writing how I felt on my laptop. I'm not sure I would call this my best work, but it's definitely something I'm proud of.
--
MusicIsForever

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