Dream Feast.

I lay awake
and in my slumber deep
of moonlight green
and pink ravines.
I starve away
but my soul feasts
on dreams of meadows
and blooms of spring.
I pine away with thirst
yet my eyes drink vehemently
the scene affronting me.
That beggars can’t be choosers
but what of those who never choose to beg
not for shelter
nor food or goods.
They are of misfortune
dark and deep
with souls more bruised
than the cores of plum.
What of them who cannot dream
feeling misfortune press on them
while I wake in slumber
and feast on dreams.

Advertisements

13 thoughts on “Dream Feast.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s