Posted in Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized

Dreams

SLEEPY WRITER 370

Dreams, like water-colored paintings,
Wash away when days are raining,
Unless I rise immediately
And capture them in poetry,
Or in a novel plotted out
So that the dream’s fully lived out.
For when I use dreams for my muse
And more imagination use,
I find that, if I captured well,
My dreams give products I can sell.

 


 

 


 

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