I sit and stare at this here screen,
I want to write,
But i only dream.
My mind wanders out of this room,
No words appear,
But outdoor looms.
The clean cut grass strokes my feet,
as i think of summer
and friends to meet.
A butterfly twirls around my head,
lays down to rest,
on a flowerbed.
But as i open my eyes, i plainly see,
none of these things do surround me,
instead im still staring at this screen,
wishing i could be back in my dream.
love this poem, its really inspirational, keep it up holly... cant wait to read what else you have writen
I really enjoyed this poem. Good imagination. Keep up the good writings, it only gets better.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
All poets dream, that is why they are poets. How good it is to share our dreams. This is a lovely descriptive piece. Irene