Whispers from dreams calling me back to a time more sweet
When love was felt in your hand and voice whether out or under sheet
Upon awakening it freezes into an icy present where it can no longer be
A mind that will not accept today takes me to dreams distantly
Feelings unburied, not felt for so long, in an ailing heart once so strong
Tears wash away faded dreams carried in a back pocket all day long
Taken out only at night spread like soft butter on the bread of sleep
Sugared dreams drunken with memories that only slumber can keep
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: March 30th, 2026 02:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Cindy
- In collections: Dreams, loss, memories, Nostalgia, sleep.
Online)
Comments8
We all have these dreams, nice write
Thank you Norman for the read and comment they are most appreciated
most welcome
Nicely written. Your poem delves into themes of memory, love, and the passage of time. It discusses how past experiences, especially those tied to love, continue to influence the poet's present emotional state, creating a contrast between what was and what is.
Thank you most sincerely for your review Friendship and for you interpretation it is deeply appreciated
There were those lean days when butter was replaced by margarine and a sprinkle of sugar made it taste like pastries and sweet cake. Random but real tangent on reading your excellent poem. 🙏🏻🕊️
A point I had not remembered but that adds so well to the intended feel of the poem. I thank you for that Cryptic and for your read and comment. Always most appreciated
A fine write, sorenbarrett. I enjoyed the read.
Thank you so much Jerry I appreciate your review and kind words
Nicely described!! A very nice write.
Thank you so much Prachi for your read and comment it is deeply valued
A powerful write which brought a tear to my eye. I have those dreams when i settle down in a warm bed with my little dachshunfd alongside me and also when I take him on his daily walk and call in at my late wifes resting place in the churchyard just the other side of the village.
Thank you Michael you read is deeply appreciated and valued
Soren, I’ve felt that pull before…where sleep becomes the only place something can still exist. It’s a strange kind of comfort, but also a hard one to carry into the day. Powerful write. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks my friend for the read and support it is most appreciated
Good write SB.
Thank you Orchi your read is deeply valued
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