And there I sat, the harsh arranged of oak.
Something quite strange, but kind to the folk.
How they wake, how they sleep, how lay and get rest.
A lovely way to live, the best.
But now I wonder, with hopeless fear,
why am I not sleeping here?
Perhaps I'm not meant to, on all four I stand.
Not finished, not lovely, and just a little too bland.
But still, I will wonder, why I am here.
To look, to give comfort, to lose what's my mind?
And yet I still stand here, just the dresser who's kind.
Author notes
For a contest on dreams...
Option #5
A contest entry
- Realistic Dreams by Jocilynn Destroyed.
475 points, ended February 2, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
I would love all comments and I'm very open to consructive critizism...
Comments
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before I judge
please put what option you are using in your author notes -
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Oh, sorry about that.
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