Poems · The Dream

Not a Dream Anymore

Stumbling across the sparkling purple sand in a dazed confusion,

Learning the way through this beautiful, desolate place.

Not looking at it as a dream anymore, but as a second home.

Feeling the rich, warm air, sweet and milky tell me to fly.

Heart pounding with ethereal electronic joy.

Being with the wind, holding its hand.

 

I wake up.

He feels the dream world on me.

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