The Sweet Dream Poem by Aaron Amaro
The Sweet Dream
She wore the cross on her shoulder.
She smiled at me as blood trickled down her cheek.
I gazed into her eyes to find only innocents lived there.
The mighty wind cleaned her rose cheeks.
She spoke yet I only heard a distant whisper.
The whisper pure as it was chilled me.
I awake and coughed up virgin blood.
It smelled sweet was this truly a dream? ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/26/2026 1:13:17 PM # rel_20260826T082754Z_99b456e
