closer

who talks to me whilst I sleep in whispers and sighs that only a lover knows warmth of touch I cannot move floating in colors of lucid dream I awaken to hear the words and feel the warmth fade into the wooden floors was I taken, then returned? did I live another life in fleeting years? the line becomes closer the thought remains clear what is dream and what is not where time does not exist

Deckard

I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...

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