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Literature Text
shadow dreamer sing to me
a sweet memory of angel's wings
of hidden things we cannot see
of secrets we bury deep inside
your words will wash upon my soul
creep into my heart where I seldom go
bring forth the dreams of painted faces
and remind me of my sacred places
you have no wings of your own
you fly upon borrowed plumage
your sorrow is my deepest sigh
I have no tears left for tomorrow
dance with me, my shadow dreamer
our feet will echo through the sky
we'll pluck the stars out one by one
until we've nowhere left to hide.
a sweet memory of angel's wings
of hidden things we cannot see
of secrets we bury deep inside
your words will wash upon my soul
creep into my heart where I seldom go
bring forth the dreams of painted faces
and remind me of my sacred places
you have no wings of your own
you fly upon borrowed plumage
your sorrow is my deepest sigh
I have no tears left for tomorrow
dance with me, my shadow dreamer
our feet will echo through the sky
we'll pluck the stars out one by one
until we've nowhere left to hide.
As so many of my poems are, this one was inspired by a dream. Mostly I just like the last two lines. The rest of the poem is just okay.
***This written work may not be used, reproduced or copied for any purpose in part or in whole.***
***This written work may not be used, reproduced or copied for any purpose in part or in whole.***
© 2011 - 2024 SeraphDreamer
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