Pessimism born anew,
Graves eternally sleeping,
Restless dreams, I have of you.
Nor teary eyed to weeping.
Fly me to the tallest tree,
I’ll perch and quietly hear,
The heavens jungle free,
Nocturnal ambience near.
Then wake up to the greyest blue,
The light beyond my eyes.
To breath another day anew.
In sleep of gentle guise.
-
Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 22nd, 2025 07:59
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments1
Enjoyed reading this, cleverly crafted poem
Thanks
It's about a book i read that stated some people are only happy when their sleeping. Lol
You are very welcome, that is probably true
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.