Rachelle Langley

Meeting Dreamers - Poem by Rachelle Langley

My house is a mess.
Can’t fit in my dress.
That I bought last year.
I’m having myself a beer.
The flash backs of last night.
Of my dreams give me pure sight.
Oh, how I love my sleep.
My waking days I weep.
Longing for something missing.
My dreams give me people listening.
They understand my struggle.
The mothers ridiculous juggle.
On subatomic level,
The waking life dishevel.
We fly across the sky.
Soar high and it’s hard to come down,
But we crash and I wake.
I meet vivid dreamers in my sleep.
They say, when they wake they weep,
At least, that’s what they tell me.
I believe, their house is a mess.
Can’t fit in their dress.
The one they bought last year.
So, they have a beer.
The flashbacks of understanding nights.
Pure vivid sight.
How they love to sleep.
A misunderstood life makes them weep.

Topic(s) of this poem: mother

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, August 29, 2015

Poem Edited: Saturday, August 29, 2015

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