Sleep arrives on feathered dreams
that fly like swift birds
with moonlight on their wings.
Dreams are like the broken angels
with half-lit halos
and nightmares are the unfortunate demons
that have nothing better to do.
Sometimes, morning comes by the fast feet
of the little boy running into your room
yelling, "It's morning, it's morning!"
Author notes
It might only make sense to my family or me.
I love my cousin Brendan. He's quite ball of energy at 7:00 in the morning.
Dig it?
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
wow
refershing and so fondling kinda poem..i loved it structire and the words that it wove in the overall message. Guess the little boy is runnig back to ya every now and the, thanks fr sahring it -
freash
fresh indeed this poem freshened me up quitea lot.while it was short it covered sucha lot of ground.........dreams to mnightmares to mornings..........do we all see mornings early enough now.....well done...visit me and comment me if you like -
Oh Brendan, I love how he runs in and yells "it's morning! Wake up everyone!"
-
-
Brendan is quite the character, I adore him.
-
-
i love this!! the personification of all the aspects of nighttime are really striking. beautiful write =)
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
