Dream Content
She was a creature of the momentImages made in the culture of dreams
With words unspoken like a promise
Two pale hands hidden behind blind silk screens
Within her space light as some sacred mirror
Were violets burning within violent flames
A tranquil qualm night message like an error
Was, emptying eyes without content.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 781 times
Written on 2017-09-18 at 17:18
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