On a bus in dead of night,
'mid the city's slumber deep,
a man sat on the far back seat,
head against the wall, asleep.
Two men sat several seats ahead.
One man made to wake him up.
"Not yet," the other held him back.
"It's miles before he'll reach his stop.
Let him in his dreams remain;
let his mind bear him away
to lands of fantasy, my friend,
until arrives the break of day.
Through you can't see it, he's in there,
within a world that's all his own,
where he may find a true respite
from all hte pain he's ever known.
Admire him, this Bus Dreamer,
in whom our dearest hopes reside.
If only more of him there lived;
the will to dream, it seems, has died."
And so they two did reach their stop,
leaving the sleeping dreamer there,
embraced in imagination's arms,
in his world, without a care.
-D.B.
Author notes
Yup, just normal poem, nothing special to say.
Daniel
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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not normal at all, it's excellent
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Thank you! By the way, how on earth did you stumble on my stuff? You've been commenting before I even get a background on 'em. XD I'm Daniel by the way. You?
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hey I don't know how I did it so fast, my name is Patricia
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