The Dream Poem by Rain Gill
The Dream
my fingers clenched
and tightened
then stretched
like the sinewy roots
of a stubborn grass
resistant and strong
refusing to be uprooted
knuckles turn from scarlet
to light ivory
as the blood slows
and pools in the tips
of my loosening grip
I turn my hand
so that my palm faces up
and watch the tiny
half moon indents
inflicted by my nails
recede along with
the dream (nightmare)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 9:56:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Love the poem! Interesting read from the first line! Well done!