the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother's poetry blog.

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bad dream

Tuesday Dawn

poetry

I jumped at a shadow
And woke myself

My muscles tense as mid-crunch,
Sweat soaking brow as well

Soon I calmed and settled
In the dark of my bedroom

When the lights are out
There are no shadows, I noted

Or everything is shadows.
Perhaps it is the same.

November 3, 2015November 3, 2015 Jay W. Ess Tagged bad dream, poem, poetry 1 Comment
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