He dreams
Left hand spanning my rib cage
gripping, releasing
Fingers twitching, tickling
I could wake him
but he is safe
I allow his sleep state to venture
If the waters get too rough
I’ll gently kiss him back to me
A precious moment
when a love falls asleep first
Window cracked
cool breeze caressing exposed skin
A busy street in the distance
We are safe
in a sea of white
as I drift off
too meet him in a dream
-Breelyn
Serving a little poetic nourishment Monday thru Friday and featuring a Short Play Saturday Matinee to read.
The blog of Sandy J. White
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the literary asylum
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In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.
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A Poet's Place | Wolff Poetry Literary Magazine is Publishing Poetry Submitted by Published & Emerging Writers,
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