Monday, 22 April 2013
I awaken from sporadic dreams
Only to beg time
To return me to my deep slumber,
Catch the tiny wisps of vague fantasies,
Hazy illusions I wholly seek.
Blurry visions I long to hold,
Those bittersweet images sheathed in silk,
Tiny droplets of golden hopes,
Strewn beneath the coverlet of haughtiness,
Viciously sweeping into my wakened self.
I remained Stoic.
Just like that,
I watched the dream's demise.