PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was late, and I in the morning air,
walked towards a house of dreams,
wishing like the dew for dawn,
that my sleeping was not so torrid,
as the fierce and mighty midday's sun.
My house of dreams,
a restless temple,
My gold ringed eyes,
begged for slumber,
like the fiercest stars,
they never flickered,
but burned, ever angry
even in the effervescent twilight,
of a long discarded, time forgotten,
house of dreams,
rest my wistful mind...