Grannyjill
New member
I built a poem in my sleep
An edifice of marble, white.
Each facet, surface, line
perfectly defined,
with gems that sparkled.
So sublime
it could have been God's
not mine.
It was glorious to behold
a glance risked instant blindness.
When I awoke in the cold, grey dawn
it broke
into a thousand pieces.
Only there in my dreams
too perfect for this world
it seems.
Which is why you are being subjected to this poor effort.
Does this happen to you?
An edifice of marble, white.
Each facet, surface, line
perfectly defined,
with gems that sparkled.
So sublime
it could have been God's
not mine.
It was glorious to behold
a glance risked instant blindness.
When I awoke in the cold, grey dawn
it broke
into a thousand pieces.
Only there in my dreams
too perfect for this world
it seems.
Which is why you are being subjected to this poor effort.
Does this happen to you?