The Dream

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I float through blushing sunset, breathe 
in the surrounding serene. In my mind’s
eye a strong desire arises, ‘to let juvenile
life become a lasting dream.’

Perpetually swaying amid waving water 
lilies, hear rustling behind roof of leaves
dazed by sounds of woodland creatures.
For a second, I thought of running away
but then remembered fear’s a beast that
feeds on attention.

To my delight, the creatures bowed and
played, we feed on cantaloupe in cavern
where we lay. Fragrant gales, embraced 
my naked flesh, I pluck out wildflowers,
and turn them into mesh.

Just then, the soul awakes.

 

 

Photo credits: Henri Rousseau

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads

26 thoughts on “The Dream

  1. Kerry O'Connor says:

    This is quite luscious, Sanaa. You have inhabited the painting with all its rigorous colours and textures – part fear and part freedom.

  2. Magaly Guerrero says:

    I love the entire poem, especially the last line. In a way, it lets me imagine that even though the soul awoke from the wonderful dream, there is a chance that the flesh can still feel its pleasures.

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