life is too short for a diary


Tags: poetry sleep

As I lay on my cosy bed,
a hanging moon did my curtains lit,
under my pillow sank my weary head,
and slumber weaved its sleepy knit.

The clock ticked and ticked away,
I climbed mountains and travelled like a bullet,
no laws of physics or Michael Faraday,
only in dreams can everyone shine like a starlet.

Suddenly the window lost its shine,
the clouds caged away the moonlit night,
no breeze came to play the rhyme,
my dreams were wreaked by this monstrous plight.

As my heart was pumping fast,
adrenaline but then a hand came past,
of my mother caressing my forehead and left,
the dark murky clouds away through the cleft.

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