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To Sleep

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Is it a second world among
The dying dreams like fleeting snow?
Falling like teardrops on your tongue
As you soar high or sing so low?
Or is it that we all cannot
Recall the dreams as they have passed
A single flying, fleeting thought
Is trapped inside the looking-glass.
Do you sink into pillows deep
To finally rest after the day
Into impermanence of sleep
Until harsh sounds tear it away
This is our santuary, our forgotten place
Our mirror that shows worlds beyond our face.





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BookOwl This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jun. 6, 2010 at 10:02 am
I'm glad I clicked "more by this author" on the poem "Crazy". I really like this; it is very descrpitive! Write more, please!
 
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