Iman Sadikeen Poems
The Weaver Of Dreams
A weaver of vivid dreams she be,
Spinning them with the yarn of despair,
Knots them she does with blind hopes,
Conjuring a life of warmth and care.
Could she not, this beautiful pattern adorn?
Wishes thus the maiden's sighing heart!
Every night, when creeps in sleep
And with it, a death wish enjoins
What is it to die, but leave all alive?
Well then, at ease I shall hereby be,
For who thither will I leave,
That shall grieve for departed me
Escape I shall, suffering at large
If death shall claim my life, still young
No charm or skill I adorn in me