Dream Thief

It’s the windows down,

on a long bus ride.

It’s a four-poster bed

with French windows, and,

the beauty of a sunrise.

It’s the freckles on your cheeks,

the morning in your eyes.

It’s the moment, when,

a dream isn’t a dream anymore

and you’re free to fly…

It’s all things sorted in black and white:

The light of my life.

The dark of the lonely night.

It’s a collective memory;

the story in a dream

in it’s divine glory –

Little drops of heaven and chivalry.

Copyright, Sevenstarhalo 2015.


22 thoughts on “Dream Thief

  1. This poem is one of the few that I had to read twice to understand its true meaning. In fact, I even read it for a third time. Why? Because it’s just too lovely to read only twice. BTW I dunno how you came across my blog but am really glad I found yours.

    Liked by 1 person

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