Sexaginta Prista


Bad Dream


The night is conquering the realm
with slowly creeping fog,
the gentle whisper of the wind
is cut with barking of a dog.

In the quickly moving daze,
shadows of mysterious ghosts,
show up and disappear
in this place of lost.

Small creatures are crawling,
under the fallen leaves,
creating rustling noises,
like do the sneaky thieves.

I am walking alone and confused,
looking for a lead,
turning left and right,
scared, hardly breathe.

Then I see a light
of a bridge over the river,
happy and content
I'm running towards it with shiver.

Suddenly the darkness
is cut by a scream,
and I woke up………
Thanks God, it was a dream.

Submitted: Thursday, November 13, 2014
Edited: Friday, November 14, 2014

Topic of this poem: DREAM


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